


Sounds of Music

by Lauded_Liar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Developing Friendships, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Implied Relationships, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Friendship, Slow Build, Slow Dancing, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 68,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauded_Liar/pseuds/Lauded_Liar
Summary: He hears it every clear night, like chimes and bells, ringing a song that he cannot place.  It brings him out to the dark cool evening, where an unexpected visitor greets him.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull
Comments: 66
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP, will have multiple parts, spanning the story of the Inquisition. Mostly will be sappy drivel as the two form a friendship.

It was a strange sound. Like an almost musical humming. But it was so faint, so quiet. And Cullen could only hear it on clear nights like tonight, when the clouds had parted and the winds were quiet. Up here in the mountains it wasn’t something that happened too frequently, with the blowing winds and the late winter storm clouds around SkyHold.

The sound wasn’t unpleasant, it was merely incessant. And it was just enough to keep Cullen from getting some sleep. Even though he desperately needed it after the day of unending work at the run down castle he’d had. It was quite a lot of work making sure that the recruits were kept busy.

Putting his pants and shirt back on, Cullen gathered up his large fur lined coat. Even though the wind wasn’t blowing, it was still chilled outside and Cullen shivered slightly as he walked out of his room in the barracks and headed towards the battlements. Against the star dazzled sky he could see his meager patrol wandering the high walls, pacing back and forth as they watched for any signs of Venatori or the dreaded Corypheus.

Cullen couldn’t fault them for the constant pacing, even he felt a certain amount of dread at the thought that the ancient magister could find them again. And there wasn’t enough of them to hold off that... dragon creature that the magister had under his thrall.

Cullen sighed heavily as he mounted the steps along the wall. One recruit paused in his pacing and saluted Cullen stiffly. Cullen smiled and saluted back before walking on past. There were so many stars in the sky that even with the moon less than half full he could see far into the distance. This fortress they’d stumbled upon was a blessing. True Divine Providence. The Inquisitor may have been unsure of her place in the whole scheme of things, but Cullen truly believed that the Maker had placed her on the path set before her. Only a truly strong of character person was capable of leading this Inquisition to greatness.

A small smile spread across his face as he thought about the Inquisitor. A roguish woman, with dark red hair and eyes the color of a stormy summer sky. Inquisitor Trevelyan.

As he walked, musing in his own thoughts about the beautiful, obstenant woman that now lead the Inquisition, he passed by a shadowy figure sitting on the edge of the wall, tucked away in a divet between the stones.

“Commander. What a surprise.” A smooth, familiar voice mocked.

Cullen turned around quickly on his heel, his eyes searching the shadows for the source of the voice. He stopped, staring at a dark spot amongst the grey stone, his eyes adjusting and taking in the form of the Tevinter Magister that had joined them on the eve of the battle at Haven.

The other man’s tanned skin made him nearly invisible in the dark evening light. He unfurled from his position against the stones, standing up, a heavy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Cullen frowned slightly, trying his best not to take a defensive stance. It was difficult though, from his years of templar training and what he knew of the magisters of Tevinter.  
“Don’t look at me that way, Commander. I’m not going to turn you into a frog!” Dorian laughed and adjusted his blanket. “What are you doing out here at this hour? Hardly a fitting time of the night for someone who wakes so early as you.”

“I... couldn’t sleep.” Cullen said, relaxing his posture slightly as Dorian turned away and looked out over the mountains towards the green scar that marred the nearly perfect night sky.

“Hm. Me either.”

Cullen stepped forward, keeping a safe distance from the other man, but moving to stand next to him as they both stared out over the vast snow covered land scape and watch the sky. It was beautiful, in a terrifying way. Cullen still marveled at the thought that Lady Trevelan had closed the gash in the sky, leaving only this green mar across the perfect skyline. He couldn’t help the smile that very softly curved his lips.

“Is that a smile? On your broodish face?” Dorian asked, bringing Cullen back down from his musing thoughts.

“W-what? I’m allowed to smile!” Cullen remarked, indignant at the small tease.

“Oh of course. And I wonder who it is you think of when you smile so sweetly at that sky.” Dorian laughed, his teeth flashing in the moonlight.

Cullen couldn’t help the small pouting frown that took the smile’s place. His brows wrinkled slightly as he looked back at Dorian. And that damnable sound continued to play.

Dorian stopped laughing and smiled widely at Cullen. “Such a handsome face, why worry it with those wrinkles?” He said, leaning forward against the grey stone battlements.

Cullen tilted his head back slightly, looking down his nose speculatively at the mage. “Why are you here? I would have thought you’d leave by now.”

“Come, come, Commander. I can’t very well leave now, not when it’s just starting! Think of all the fun to be had!”

Cullen narrowed his eyes at the other but then turned back to look out over the mountains again. It was peaceful, even with the strange musical sounds. “Can you hear it?” He asked in a quiet whisper, afraid to break the still of the evening.

Dorian shifted in his peripheral vision but didn’t say anything at first. Cullen didn’t want to turn and look at the other, suddenly feeling self conscious about the fact that he had said anything at all. He realized that he sounded... well, slightly insane. It wasn’t unknown for Templars who refused to take their lyrium to lose touch with reality. Maybe that’s what it was. Maybe he was losing touch. He’d have to bring it up with Cassandra in the morning. She would know what to do, the best course of action to take.

  
“You can hear it? You can hear the music?” Dorian sounded shocked, and when Cullen turned to look at him his eyes were wide with interest.

“Only on nights like tonight. It’s very faint.” Cullen could practically see the cogs in Dorian’s mind whirring to life, his dark eyes wide and shining as they swept over Cullen, making him feel suddenly very naked.  
  
“Fascinating. Quite interesting, Commander... Cullen? May I call you Cullen?”

His frown returned and Cullen debated for a moment. “I... suppose.”

“And you... you take lyrium, don’t you? All you southern templars take lyrium. I wonder if the other templars here are hearing it as well? I haven’t heard anything from the mages, but I wonder if–” Dorian trailed off, looking pensively towards the green light in the sky.

Cullen cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. He turned and looked back out over the snow that glimmered under the faint moonlight above. He wondered if he should tell the mage that he wasn’t taking lyrium. But then decided that it wasn’t safe to reveal that information to a Tevinter magister. Even if the magister had decided to help the Inquisition he wasn’t exactly sure of the man.

The Inquisitor herself was rather fond of the mage, but Cullen couldn’t shake the feeling that he would start using blood magic any day now. He was sure that his suspicions would prove true, even if the other man was friendly enough with the people he worked with.

They both stood there for awhile longer: Cullen watching the glimmering snow and Dorian pondering just what it meant that a non-mage could hear the music. Clouds began to build up, moving with a slow grace across the sky, beginning to cover up the green slash of light. And as the light diminished under the building cloud cover, the music began to disappear with it.

“Well... I suspect sleep will come easier now. Good night, Dorian.”

“He used my first name! He knows me, oh heart be still!” Dorian feigned a swoon and Cullen tried desperately to not to act embarassed. Instead he turned on his heel smartly and stomped away, grateful that the darkening clouds hid his blush.


	2. With Growth Comes Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finds he is becoming more familiar with the Tevinter Mage. And he is finding that not always will his prejudices hold up. With the growth of the Inquisition, Cullen finds he is also required to Change.

“Get those rafters up! If this roof collapses again, I’ll have drills for the lot of you for a month!” Cullen barked, watching as the recruits drafted to help fix SkyHold scrambled to lift the large beams of wood up to the high arching roof tops. The roof had already collapsed twice in the past week. The master dwarven architect was stumped as to why the beams kept snapping, but Vivienne had chimed in that perhaps the roof just needed an enchantment to help keep the beams from breaking and falling through. With a little help from the mages on hand they had shored up most of the holes in the roof, and were just waiting for the last of the wooden beams to be bolted into place to help keep the roof steady under the weight of the heavy late winter snows that were common here in the high mountains.

“Cullen!” A hard feminine voice barked from behind. The golden haired warrior turned quickly, a salute ready for the Inquisitor as she came into the building. “War room.” Was all she said, her own boot heels clicking hard on the stone as she stormed past towards the meeting room. Leliana was a shadow in her wake, casting a curious glance at Cullen as they passed by. He just shrugged at her, following along with them.

“Keep working! I want this finished by tonight before dinner!”

“Yes, ser!” Everyone echoed together.

The War Room itself was chilly, a draft blowing in from one of the windows. But they were loathed to get rid of the window, as the glass was beautifully wrought and one of the last few remaining in the entire castle of the original (or pressumed original) windows.

“We need to do something about these Wardens!” The Inquisitor said, her face flushed with her obvious anger. Cullen bowed as him and the other two advisors began to devise plans on how to proceed at Adamant.

That evening it was clear again. Still cold with the winter chill, but quiet. Only sounds were from the men sleeping in the barracks, and from in the distance Cullen could hear music and occasionally laughter drifting from the tavern. The Iron Bull and his Chargers no doubt making a ruckus as they were wont to do when not out on the road.

But he could hear the music. Soft and lilting through the dark evening. It made him wonder if the sound was there during the day and he just couldn’t hear it through the noise typical of the fortress during the day. But it was enough once again to keep him from being able to fall asleep.

Cullen pulled his jacket closer around himself, as he once more walked the steps up to the top of the wall. They had a few more guards roaming the ramparts by now, it still wasn’t enough to have a full guard complement day and night but it was more than what they’d shown up from Haven with.

He walked along, eyes scanning the distance for any signs of movement. They had incoming caravans on a regular basis now a days, and occasionally the caravans would come in at night. Watching their bobbing lanterns as they came up the mountain pass was a sight that brought Cullen a certain joy, almost child like wonder.

“Here we are again. We really should stop meeting like this, what will the servants say?”

Cullen groaned as he turned around, facing the sassy mage that was currently grinning almost wolfishly at him. “Dorian.” Cullen drawled out, trying his best to sound unamused.

“Come, come, Commander. You know you’re happy to see me.” The full moon above them glinted off the mage’s dark grey eyes, so similar to the Inquisitor’s that Cullen briefly wondered if the two were related at all. Dorian was once against wrapped in a heavy blanket to ward against the chill. “I heard you had been given the tower just there to yourself. No more farting templar’s in training for you, then?” Dorian asked, his head cocking just slightly to the side.

“We don’t train templars here, Tevinter.”

“No, only give them a safe place to hide.”

“We offer all a safe place. Yourself included, mage.”

Dorian gasped, lifting one blanket covered hand to his mouth, his eyes widening with what Cullen could only assume was shock. Or he was fooling with him. Or angry, honestly Cullen wasn’t the best with reading the sarcastic mage’s emotions. It didn’t help that he was constantly acting gruff and put off, but would walk away with a large grin on his tanned face and a wink in one eye.

Cullen just gruffed and then turned to look back out towards the path that led in towards SkyHold.

“You hear it again?” Dorian asked softly after a few moments of silence. The other had moved to Cullen’s side.

“Yes. And you? Have you found anything else about it?”

“That’s hard to do without drawing suspicion from the every friendly Templar entourage here.” Dorian drawled, tugging at his blanket up around his shoulders high enough that he became only a head floating amongst the folds of cloth. “It’s also difficult to do when we aren’t directly near the source. Perhaps if we still had Haven I could... Be close enough to at least run some kind of small test. Some... way to touch the tear in the veil.” Dorian sighed heavily and shrugged.

Cullen turned enough to look at Dorian from the side of his eye, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. “Haven is lost. But... we have begun to build a monument of sorts, we might be able to have a visit. Although being that close, I would want a guard with you.”

“Yes,” Dorian sneered, “in case I succumb to a demon.”

“It’s not impossible. Don’t act as if it isn’t!” Cullen snapped back, feeling a rush of hot anger at the other’s tone of indignance.

“You know, I think mages are far less likely to turn to demon’s than you believe, Commander. You seem to think we all just flit about, waiting for some demon to promise us a piece of good pie and poof we just let them take over. Just like that, nothing special. You seem to think with magic comes a weak will.”

“I have seen it, more times than I care to count. I have been the receiving end of an Abomination’s attack. It is not a pleasant thing to witness, and even less so to endure.” Cullen growled, knew his tone was stiff, angry. And he knew he was being unfair to Dorian, the man had proven himself time and again that he was a capable mage. And if the Inquisitor was to be believed he was a good man. But Cullen still had his doubts.

“Now, listen here. If I was even remotely tempted by a demon, it would have happened years ago. After all I’ve experienced in life, a demon would have to have a very pretty offer. Even prettier than you, Commander.” Dorian had that sly smile and wink ready for Cullen when the ex-templar glanced over at him.

Cullen sputtered in confusion and mild embarrassment. Dorian chuckled and snuggled into his blankets again. “I...” Cullen sighed, the anger that had built in his chest rushing out in a large gust of air. “I’m sorry, Dorian. It is unfair of me to continue to think you are susceptible when you have proven you are capable.”

“Now, see? Was that so hard to admit? Being wrong, that is.” Dorian smirked.

Cullen felt the small hairs on the back of his neck bristle, but he merely frowned, knowing the other was goading him again. So instead, Cullen remained mute and turned around to look out over the large courtyard of the keep. The stables below them glowed with a faint light of a lantern. Blackwall was probably up dusting some Grey Warden relic the Inquisitor had brought back for him.

There was a gentle nudge to Cullen’s side and he jerked back, his heart leaping in his chest at the gentle touch to his side. He glanced over and saw Dorian standing right next to him. The other didn’t say anything just looked out over the courtyard.

“It is rather magnificent what’s been accomplished.” Dorian said, his eyes looking over the entirety of the keep above and below.

Cullen was silent for a moment and then nodded in agreement. “Yes. It is.” He said, falling back into silence as he considered the other man’s presence. The sound of the veil continued to ring quietly in the background.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Adamant was both difficult and trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not entirely sure about this chapter, honestly. I was trying to write the battle from the PoV of the other characters maybe not involved in the fade, but failed remarkably. Also... conflicted about where this story should go... Hng.

It was a hard won battle. The Grey Wardens began in fighting after the Inquisitor went in and breached their defenses. Cullen was walking along with the rest of the soldiers, mopping up the last of the demons and enthralled mages.

“They fell! The Inquisitor and the other’s fell!”

Voices murmured in confusion. Cullen felt his heart plummet at the noise as the cry of despair echoed through the halls of the fortress, continuing on and passing the news to all who would hear.

Leliana came rushing up to Cullen, her purple cape draped neatly over her red hair. “The Inquisitor -”

“I heard. Where did they fall?” Cullen asked, quickening his pace to a trot as Leliana ushered him through to the large broken bridge. They all stood back, the old mortar crumbling and more stones falling into the gaping chasm below at even the hint of more weight walking out to look below.

Cullen gasped as he looked down into the darkness. It must go down miles, most likely down into the deep roads. Despair threatened to take over as he continued to stare. There was no way they would survive that fall.

“Oh shit.” Iron Bull murmured behind him. “Oh, shiiiit.” Cullen glanced over his shoulder at the Bull, watching as the other ran a hand along his sweaty head. “That’s.... that’s quite the fall. Ah, fuck...”

Cullen also felt as lost as the qunari at the thought of their companions falling so far into the abyss. His heart fell. They’d lost her... They’d lost the one person that could close the damnable tears in the fade. Heart pounding harder now than it had mid-battle Cullen rushed back out as far as he dared, looking, hoping that maybe one of the group had grabbed the edge. Surely one of them had reached for safety...

But there was nothing other than the howl of the wind through the chasm.

Shouting began from the large courtyard where the tear in the veil had been made by the Tevinter magister. Cullen glanced up at Leliana and she waved him on, following quickly on the heels of the others as they all rushed back.

Demons. Demons were starting to come out of the gashing hole. Spiders, dozens of them. All sizes. Inquisition soldiers, Wardens, Mages, Templars: all were fighting spiders. Cullen’s brow wrinkled in concern. This was not going to end well. Especially since they didn’t have the Inquisitor there to help close the hole back up. Instead it was beginning to glow fiercly, it’s light growing and growing. Cullen felt his stomach churn as his eyes drew towards the light, and inside the rift he saw... Something horrible. It was like a giant mutated spider, it was reaching forward, reaching towards him....

And then... She came tumbling out, Dorian, Blackwall, Varric, and Hawke all falling from the rift. Travellyan turned, quick as a bolt and closed the rift with a wave of her hand. All of them were covered in... What Cullen could only assume was more spider guts. The last of the demons that had crawled their way through the rift were made quick work of by the recruits and remaining Wardens.

“We thought you fell!” He said, the vestiges of his fear causing his voice to crack.

The Inquisitor nodded sternly at Cullen before turning back to check over her other companions.

“Never again!” Dorian whined, clutching at his chest.

Varric looked back towards the rift, his face scrunched up as if he were about to cry. Hawke reaching out to his long time friend and resting a hand on the dwarf’s hunched shoulder.

Blackwall looked shell shocked, his eyes haunted as he looked around at what remained of the Grey Wardens.

Cullen was stern faced as he listened to the Inquisitor’s decree.

It wasn’t easy. It was anything but easy to think of the past weeks events. The army was moving at a slow crawl back towards SkyHold. They’d left the last of the siege equipment at Adamant. Dragging it all the way back across the mountain passes would have been at best fool hardy.

The Warden’s had been disbanded. At least the chapter in Orlais. The Inquisitor had been stern, warning them that she wouldn’t tolerate their presence in the kingdom during this time of strife with Corypheus.

Cullen himself still wasn’t sure about the whole plan. But the Inquisitor had been sure as always she was in her decisions. He didn’t think he would have made the same call. Blackwall had almost walked out himself, but some strange loyalty had kept him tied to the Inquisition.

The Inquisitor, Iron Bull, Sera, and Solas, had left ahead of the army to head out towards the Exalted Plain. No rest for the wicked, Cullen guessed.

Running a hand through his hair, Cullen sighed heavily and wished for a bath. A nice, hot, long bath back at SkyHold was going to one of the first things on his to do list. He stepped out of his tent, the cool of the night a welcome reprieve from the stuffy tent air.

The music was fainter here, Cullen almost couldn’t hear it at all. He wondered just how far he’d have to travel to not hear the sounds of the fade singing in the distance. The large army camp was mostly silent itself as the soldiers were tired and fell into deep slumber almost as soon as they’d erected their tents. Cullen was pleased with the way they had taken the fortress Adamant. It had been a long and arduous trek to the site, but they had taken it over in less than a day.

“Even here, we find ourselves together.” Dorian drawled, walking up towards Cullen. He wasn’t bundled up in a blanket this evening, instead wearing his usual garb.

“Dorian.” Cullen answered, nodding his head slightly at the mage before turning to look back out over the tents gathered together around them.

“It’s quieter than I thought a war camp would be.”

“Everyone is tired. Most of the recruits didn’t even make it to dinner, so far as the quarter master is telling me.”

“Hm. Leftovers for breakfast then.” Dorian pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. It was quiet for a minute, Cullen watching the mage from the corner of his eye and Dorian continuing to look at the sky. “I wasn’t even tempted once, you know.” The mage said after a minute of silence.

“Hm?” Cullen turned, shook himself out of his thoughts to look at the other man.

“In the fade. I kept thinking about what you said, about how I would be tempted by all the demons and such. I just thought you should know, I wasn’t.” The Tevinter looked up at Cullen, his grey eyes dark in the fire light.

“Ah... Well... I’m, uh... Glad.” Cullen felt his cheeks warm with a blush. “I’m... sorry, Dorian. For assuming you would succumb.” He muttered, feeling shame burn in his chest.

Dorian didn’t say anything at first, the silence drawing out long and awkward for Cullen. Finally the mage turned and looked at the ex-Templar. “When we went through that rift... as I was falling... I wished you were there.” Dorian admitted.

Cullen’s blush deepened and he was glad that the fires had died down enough to hide it from view. “I... What?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly with the sudden embarassment.

There was a flash of ivory teeth in the faded light and a low chuckle as Dorian turned to leave. “Good night. Cullen. Don’t let the demons bite.” The other man walked away and back to his own tent amongst the few mages of the camp.

Cullen frowned as he watched the other man leave, his mind whirling with the other’s confession. The fade singing faintly in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to decide if this should go towards a more CullRian direction.... Yes? Maybe the Inquisitor gets some Bull action ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer celebrations, dampened by dark tidings. Cullen finds he isn't very good with the whole... Comforting thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking I'm going Cullrian. *smooch*

It was a beautiful early summer evening. The chill of winter was finally dispersed (at least as much it would at these altitudes) and recruits were milling about out in the warmth of the evening air. The skies were clear, no clouds had been in sight all day, and the stars twinkled brightly overhead, only dimmed by the full moon shining a silvery light.

Cullen stretched as he stepped out of his office. He was dressed only in a fine linen tunic, open at the chest, and a pair of dark brown leather breeches, well worn and comfortable. His ever present sword was buckled at his side, a familiar weight against his hip. A gentle breeze tickled a small curl of hair that hung over his brow. It was almost time to get his hair trimmed, the lazy curls were beginning to grow past the tops of his ears, and tickling the sensitive skin of his neck.

He passed by quite a few of the new recruits, walking along the walkway above the tavern. Lively music and laughter came from the open windows and doors. Cullen briefly thought about joining as he watched a few of the Bull’s Chargers stumble in through the door, pulling along a couple newer recruits in with them.

But he was the commander and didn’t feel it would be appropriate to fraternize with his underlings. Sighing heavily, Cullen just smile and shook his head as he continued to walk along the stone ramparts, nodding at any guard that marched past. It was nice to see so many men and women well armed, well fed, well trained along the high walkway of the fortress.

None of it had seemed possible those months ago in Haven. And after the first attack from Coyrpheus, and they’d struggled through those mountain paths... It had seemed even as if it had failed entirely. And yet now here they were. Being led by a head strong young woman, full of vinegar and fire. Not always the most popular person, but Cullen supposed having to be at the top meant having to make decisions that did not always appeal to everyone.

Thinking of the Inquisitor, Cullen’s eyes were drawn up towards the tall tower where her quarters were. He thought he could see someone moving in the window but wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination or not. Not that it mattered, the woman barely showed any interest in speaking to Cullen unless it was about work anyway. His early infatuation with Lady Trevellyan had faded, but he still had a great respect for her. It couldn’t be easy, being suddenly the savior of an entire continent.

Cullen bit his lip and hummed in thought, his eyes gazing at the far away bright window. He was lost in though for awhile, probably drawing a few stares from nearby guards as they stood their posts. Finally Cullen shook himself from his reverie and continued his slow easy walk along the walkway. The moon hung bright and heavy in the sky above, illuminating everything with a pale glow.

He stepped around the corner, and was shocked to see the silvery form of Dorian sitting on the edge of the wall. Cullen’s lips drew together tightly as he watched the other man’s slouched outline.

“Not joining the festivities?” He asked, stepping towards the mage.

Dorian twitched, turning to look at him with wide eyes. Cullen’s heart dropped as he drew close enough to see the shine of tears in the other’s eyes.

“Ah.... Commander... How are you this evening?” Dorian asked his voice crackling with emotion, turning away to look out again over the mountainous vista, one hand roughly running across his eyes.

Cullen paused at a nearby balstraude, unsure suddenly about interrupting the mage’s evening. “I... Well, the evening is very pleasant.” He said, running a hand along his belt in a nervous gesture. “And... H-how are you this...” Cullen stopped mid-sentence remembering what Leliana had told him of Dorian and the Inquisitor going to Redcliffe village for a secret meeting.

Dorian barked a short laughed, a pitched unamused sound. “Clearly, not in a very people-y mood.” He said, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder towards the sounds of revelry coming from the tavern.

Cullen nodded slowly, his own foot slowly sliding back. “I-” He started, eyes searching for anywhere to look but at the morose man slumped on the wall in front of him.

“Stay.” Dorian whispered quietly. Cullen almost didn’t hear it, but for the lull in the music from the tavern nearby. “I... don’t want to be alone.”

Cullen felt his mouth move but found no words. After a moment he stepped forward to stand next to Dorian, his fingers picking idly at the loose stones atop the balustrade. Licking his lips that suddenly felt too dry, Cullen kept his gaze down at the little rocks his fingers picked at.

Dorian sniffled wetly and a hoarse chuckle escaped his lips. “I’m sure your family is quite proud of you.” He said, something like bitter remorse in his tone.

“They... I suppose they might be.” Cullen shrugged his shoulders and looked up at Dorian, feeling a pang of sorrow at the way the other man’s face was twisted in grief. “I’m not very good at keeping up communications with them.”

“Do you miss them?” Dorian asked, softly, another wet sniffle.

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Hm. Very charming.” Dorian sighed heavily and shifted positions, his legs swinging further over the edge of the wall.

Cullen felt his throat close in panic and he stepped closer to Dorian, one hand reach to reach out and snatch the other back from the drop.

“I’m not jumping. Least wise, not tonight.” There was a note of defeat in the gentle lilt of Dorian’s accent.

A soft gust of wind escaped Cullen’s lips as he relaxed slightly. He didn’t know how he would explain to the Inquisitor that he let her favorite Altus fall to his death in grief. “Does this... have to do with Redcliffe?” He asked shifting slightly closer to Dorian, his fingers dropping the tiny stones they’d been pinching.

Dorian looked over at Cullen, his eyes sparkling in the bright moon light. Cullen could see the damp tracks from tears shine on the dark skin, thick lashes clumped together. Their eyes locked and Cullen felt his heart skip a beat as he looked into the eyes the color of early morning clouds. A quick blink from the other broke him of his spell and Cullen looked away quickly, his cheeks warming as he went back to picking at little rocks.

“Yes. It... My father. I wasn’t able to face him. He says he just wanted to talk, but... Just seeing him made me so angry.” Dorian shifted again on the stone and Cullen’s eyes glanced over to make sure he wasn’t slipping off. “He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.” The anger that had laced his previous words quickly faded with the last sentence. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

Cullen was quiet, his fingers still tossing the tiny rocks off the edge of the wall. He bit his lip and glanced at Dorian from the corner of his eye. Unsure of what to say. “I don’t think you owe him anything.” He finally answered, his voice low and quiet.

“What would you know? I’m sure you’re the precious son. Prodigy.” Dorian’s jibes were half hearted at best, as if he’d been angry for too long and was running out of the energy to continue being angry.

Cullen sighed and moved closer to the mage. He reached out, his hand touching the other’s warm shoulder. “I don’t know what happened between your father and you. But I know that I am proud to know you.”

Dorian jerked under the gentle touch, looking over his shoulder at the ex-Templar. Their eyes met again, Dorian’s seeming to search for something that was locked away inside Cullen’s own honey-brown ones.

The music from the tavern picked up in volume along with roars of approval. Both men looked back towards the wooden building curiously.

“I’d wager there’s at least one nude soldier in there.” Dorian mumbled, some semblance of his cocky self returning.

“... I’ll... I’ll buy you an ale.” Cullen said, looking back from the tavern to Dorian.

“I’ll need more than one tonight.”

“As long as you promise to get off the edge of the wall.”

Dorian chuckled and swung his legs back to the walkway, slipping off the wall with a soft landing. The mage groaned and stretched his arms high over his head, bending his legs experimentally. “I sat too long.” He muttered, shaking his legs as they began the trek down to the Herald’s Rest.

Cullen reached into his pocket, and withdrew a small piece of cloth. “Here.” He said, holding it out to Dorian. The mage looked at it as if he’d pulled a piece of moldy bread out. “What? It’s a hanky.”

Dorian reached into his own pocket, and pulled out a piece of soft silk. “This is a hanky, Commander. That... Is a snot rag.”

Cullen glowered back at the other man. “It’s clean.”

Dorian wiped at his face and then put his handkerchief back into his pocket. He grinned his lopsided smile at Cullen and reached over to take his hand. “Thank you, oh kind knight.” Dorian bent over and brushed a gentle kiss to the back of Cullen’s weather roughened hand.

Cullen’s cheeks burned hot. His eyes were wide as saucers he was sure. Dorian’s fingers were soft and warm and released his hand almost as quickly as they had taken it.

“Now. About that ale.” Dorian stepped lightly around Cullen and headed down towards the tavern, his steps light down the stone stairs. There was a pause about four steps down and the Tevinter turned slightly to look at Cullen. “Thank you.” He murmured, his voice was warm and quiet, an unvoiced emotion riding on the tail. But then Dorian was continuing down towards the sound of music, laughter, the smell of ale and smoke.

Cullen was quick on the other’s heel, a small smile on his face.

And the tear in the veil glimmered beneath the moon.


	5. 99 Bottles of Ale on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Cullen head to the Herald's rest for a couple drinks after Dorian has admitted his anger towards his own family.
> 
> Cullen realizes that he is not nearly as adept at holding his liquor as he was in his youth, but it's still just as fun to have a few drinks with friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about typos and such, this story comes together during work. A way to attempt to keep sane in this crazy world.

Cullen walked into the tavern after Dorian. The air was hot and muggy from the mass of bodies that were pressed into the building. It smelled faintly of wood varnish and the sweet smell of spilled ale and wine. A few of the recruits that had maintained some semblance of sobriety nodded, saluted, and one even gave a rather informal and enthusiastic wave.

Cullen just smiled faintly and nodded at them all, feeling a little out of place. He hadn’t been into a tavern where so many of his subordinates were known to spend time... Well, at least not since the early days of Kirkwall. And that had been nearly a life time ago.

Dorian was sliding through the crowded room with the well oiled ease of practice and Cullen found himself just doing his best to not be grabbed by flailing hands as he shouldered his way through to the bar top.

“Two glasses of your best ale!” Dorian cried to the barkeep, the haggard man just nodded vaguely at him in acknowledgment and turned around to grab almost six tankards with one hand, his other opening a spigot on the side of a giant cask. The tankards were quickly filled under the steady flow and the spigot closed before the barkeep turned back around, handing two large frothing mugss to Dorian and then sliding the other four to a group of young soldiers nearby.

“Six coppers.” The man said, his deep voice carrying through the loud music and laughter.

Cullen quickly reached into his pant pocket, withdrawing a handful of mis-matched coins from his earlier shopping trip down in the commons area of the keep. There was a brush of skin against his arm and Cullen looked up as Dorian peered over into his hand, looking at the glittering coinage laid out.

A sudden blush flushed across Cullen’s face, and he caught a surprised sound in his throat as went back to counting out how many coppers he had. Six.... Six...

Dorian was so close to him he could smell a gentle floral scent that seemed to be coming from the other man’s hair. Perhaps it was some perfume in the pomade that kept it in such neat form. Cullen kept his eyes down at the coins, even as dark, thin fingers reached into his palm and plucked a shiny silver from the small pile.

“For your trouble, sir!” Dorian said, tossing the coin over to the barkeep, who’s large bear like paw of a hand snatched the small shining coin out of the air.

“Th-th-that was nearly twenty times what was owed!” Cullen sputtered, his blush from Dorian’s closeness earlier now turning into a darker flush of anger.

“And you’re the Commander of the Inquisition armies! Don’t be cheap.” Dorian sipped at his ale, his grey eyes twinkling with mirth as they looked directly into Cullen’s own.

Cullen felt his mouth purse into a small frown, even as he lifted the tankard to his lips to sip at the frothed head of the ale. “Well I’m not made of money, you know.” He muttered, his eyes roving the crowd to see if he recognized any of them. Most were from the newest batch of recruits sent in from the Emerald Graves after the Inquisitor had gone and stabilized the area. Or at least as stable as it could be made until the civil war was settled. Orlesians...

Dorian only flashed a toothy smile at Cullen before turning his own sights out towards the gathered mass of people. He looked around, waving at Krem who was sitting sideways in a chair with a buxom woman sitting on his lap. Iron Bull was, oddly, not near his group of mercenaries. Cullen just figured the Qunari was somewhere else with a group of women. Or men.

Sera was currently sitting with Cole, watching the bard singing a rambunctious (and rather lewd) song about a young laundry maid in Orlais. At the chorus Sera and the rest of the gathered crowd all belted out together the words, most unable to keep a tune, and even more slurring their words badly.

Cole only stared around the room wide eyed. He at least seemed pleased by the massive gathering of people. Cullen still wasn’t sure about the spirit... Child. But he was growing more accustom to the idea of Cole being around.

Cullen’s brown eyes swept along the crowd some more as he took a long draft from his tankard. The ale was bitter with a sweet undertone to it. He wouldn’t say it was the best ale the Inquisition had access to, but it was not a bad one to enjoy in the rowdy crowded tavern. He felt a smile stretch across his face, remembering being young and full of a desire to just be loud. To go out to the local tavern with his Templar friends and spend time with the village girls. To dance and sing and make bawdy jokes.

It felt almost another lifetime ago.

“Do you dance, Commander?” A deep, velvety voice asked from his side, bringing Cullen back to the here and now.

“Dance?” He asked, incredulously as he looked over at Dorian. “I haven’t danced in an age.” He said, almost wistful as he looked back at the bard as she picked up another tune, a quick tempo Ferelden ditty.

“Hm.” Dorian tilted the cup back and finished off the rest of his ale in a long swallow. Cullen’s eyes were wide as he watched the other’s throat reflexively move the liquid to its next destination. “Well... perhaps we should remedy that!” The Tevinter set his cup down on a nearby tabletop and turned to Cullen, bowing slightly with his hand outstretched towards Cullen.

A few nearby recruits whistled and laughed loudly at Dorian’s display. Cullen once again felt his cheeks warming. He was blushing far too much lately. The blonde man just snorted and shook his head, his upper lip curling slightly. “Don’t mock me, mage.” He growled, lifting his tankard back to his lips and taking another swallow of the effervescent liquid.

Dorian gasped, his eyes widening. “You wound me!” He said, standing upright again and picking up his empty tankard once more. “Well... perhaps after another drink you’ll be more willing to be a dance partner then.” Dorian winked at Cullen in that infuriating way he had.

“You finished the whole thing already?” Cullen asked (neither denying nor confirming Dorian’s assumptions), looking into his own tankard that was still two-thirds full.

“Some of us clearly have more practice. Although, I must admit, I think I’ll take a wine next.” Dorian reached his hand out towards Cullen again, palm turned up. His fingers twitched in a ‘give’ motion.

Cullen felt his lips pulling down into another frown. This was quickly becoming more expensive than he had planned on. He hummed as he lifted his tankard to his lips and began to finish off the brown bubbling liquid. It slid down his throat in a tickling, burning sensation. It had been a long while since he’d engaged in the activity of ‘chugging’ an alcoholic beverage. But it was like riding a horse, just hop right back on.

The last of the tankards contents slid down Cullen’s throat as he dropped the tankard on the table top with a loud ‘clunk’. He hand reached up and wiped at the brown liquid dribbling along his cheeks and chin before it could drip onto his favorite shirt and stain the delicate linen.

He took a deep breath... looked around at the gathered crowd now gawking at him with owl wide eyes... and let out an enormous belch.

Dorian, who had been open mouthed at the display, gasped and then threw his head back, laughing loudly. The rest of the onlookers also joined in the mirth, some slapping Cullen on the back in admiration.

“Another round for the Commander!” Someone shouted from the back of the small crowd around them. Others raised their voices in agreement. Soon Cullen found another large frothing tankard of ale put into his hand. Dorian’s own hand was filled with a more delicate silver mug filled with a red wine. 

Dorian continued to chortle gleefully as he sipped at his wine, moving closer again to Cullen’s side. Cullen smiled and lifted his tankard up in a bar room salute, before sipping at the light tawny froth on top.

“And to the victor, go the spoils.” Dorian said, sipping at his wine again. Cullen felt a warm arm wrap it’s way around his own arm, cool fingers clutched around his bicep. He looked down at the tanned arm, dark against his own. Dorian was staring out at the rest of the crowd, oblivious the fact that Cullen was looking at him. Or at least pretending to be.

Cullen’s eyebrows knit together and he turned away, debating on taking his arm back from the mage. He sipped again at his drink, still mulling over what to do now that he was entwined with Dorian, when his eyes met with a woman standing nearby. She was whispering with her friend, eyes bright as they both looked over at Dorian and Cullen.

Cullen felt like a deer stuck in the sights of a wolf. Frozen with fear, tankard pressed against his lips, he watched as the women tittered together, fingers pointing discreetly towards the two men. He took a large pull of ale into his mouth and then pulled his arm free from the warm embrace Dorian had on it.

Dorian shifted next to him and Cullen felt a little ashamed as he looked from the corner of his eye at the other man.

“No?” Dorian asked softly, then looked over at the two woman. They both saw Dorian looking and smiled politely before turning away. “Ah. No, then.” The other man seemed to deflate slightly, his smile losing a little of it’s brightness, shoulders slumping just a bit. Dorian was near as tall as Cullen but he suddenly seemed a foot shorter.

“I...” Cullen cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I just... How about a drink of something stronger?” He asked, trying to sound less uncomfortable than he suddenly felt. He also just wanted to move away from the surrounding people, get away from the two women’s prying eyes.

“Hm. I believe Bull has a bottle of something behind the bar that is supposed to ‘put chest on your chest’. Or so he claimed after we killed that dragon. I still haven’t tried it. Honestly anything from a Qunari could lead to death.”

“Sounds perfect.” Cullen muttered, moving through the crowd that now parted a little easier for him.

Cullen wasn’t used to drinking very much. The occasional watered down glass of wine with a feast meal or at holy days, but other than that he rarely partook of alcohol anymore. And the ale began to swim in his head, making the sounds of the tavern a little duller, the colors a little brighter, his body felt lighter than it had in a long time.

“Two whiskey.” Cullen called, holding up his first two fingers towards the barkeep. The man just nodded at him and continued to pour a copious amount of ale for a group of loud youths. Cullen didn’t quite recognize them and wasn’t sure if they were soldier recruits or if they were with the merchants that passed through the keep. Either way, as each got their ale, they began to try and chug the alcohol as Cullen had.

“It seems you’ve started a new trend! How very charming.” Dorian drawled, standing a good foot away from Cullen as he leaned on his elbows against the bar top and watched as the young men and women laughed at one of their companions when he coughed, beer spilling out of his nose and down his shirt.

Cullen shifted uncomfortably. He hoped he hadn’t destroyed the respect he’d worked so hard to gain with his little stunt. But he wasn’t able to think about the situation for long as suddenly two small cups filled partly with a strong, woody smelling liquor were set in front of them.

The barkeep eyed them briefly then shrugged. “On the house.” He said, turning away and wiping his hands on his apron before taking the next order. The man was gruff, but especially efficient at his job.

Dorian set his wine mug down and scooped up the smaller cup, lifting it to his nose to sniff the liquor. “Hm, smells vaguely like Fereldan.” He said, wrinkling his nose in what Cullen could only assume was disgust.

“You know I’m from Fereldan.” Cullen said in a deadpan, his eyes locking with Dorian’s as the Tevinter sipped daintly from the cup.

Dorian’s eyes were wide as a puppy’s own and one shoulder shrugged. “Oh?” He said, feigning innocence even as his mustache twitched at one end with the smirk that threatened to twist his lips.

Cullen pursed his own thin lips and shook his head slowly, lifting the cup up towards Dorian for a toast. “To the Inquisition.” He said, letting a small smile relax across his face.

“How formal! Let’s toast to something else... To... Friendship!” Dorian said, standing up straight to reach his cup out and tap it gently against the side of Cullen’s own.

“Yes. Friendship!” Cullen agreed, his own smile stretching into a small grin as lifted the cup up and tossed the liquor into his mouth. It had a burst of smokey, woody flavor, and it burned as if slid down his throat. Cullen grimaced briefly, hissing through his teeth as the whiskey began to warm his stomach, spreading through his chest.

He looked up just in time to see Dorian cough and hack once. “Ugh! It tasted like Fereldan too!”

Cullen barked a loud laugh at that. “Indeed, it does! One more round, please!” He said, placing his cup nearer to where the barkeep was quickly cleaning a few dirty tankards in a bucket of water. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few coins. He frowned as his brain took a second longer than normal to count through and find another silver piece in the small pile.

Dorian had moved closer again, his wine mug back in his hand. Cullen hummed and shoved the other coins back into his pocket, sliding the silver over to the barkeep as the burly man filled their small cups back up. The barkeep glanced at the silver from the corner of his eye, his hand tilting a little more, filling the cups to the rim instead of only halfway.

Cullen’s eyes widened in shock. “I think I’m finished after this one.” He said, words coming a little slower and thicker than normal.

Dorian just looked up at him, his eyes sparkling with a mischief that Cullen found unnerving. “Of course, Commander.”

The bard was taking a break, the tavern filled with the sounds of conversation and laughter. Cullen lifted his ale tankard and sipped at his, him other hand wrapped around his full whiskey cup. He wasn’t quite sure about drinking it just yet.

“Holy Maker! Or whatever it you little humans say.” Iron Bull laughed loudly as he walked in and saw Dorian and Cullen near the bar. “How did you get him to come here?” The Qunari asked, moving through the crowd as if it were water. Although most people knew to get out of the Qunari’s way, the man not only had the horns of a bull, he was near as big as one.

Cullen’s eyes widened as he saw the Inquisitor come walking in behind the Iron Bull. The red haired woman greeted Sera and Cole as she followed in the big horned man’s wake. People bowed and called in greeting to her. She smiled and waved.

There was a faint glow about her. Cullen had to admit he’d rarely seen the woman smile, but now her mouth was stretched into a lazy grin, a faint tint of pink on her cheeks. It was almost as if... She slipped around Iron Bull to go to the bartop, grabbing up two large tankards of ale as the barkeep handed them to her without a word.

The Iron Bull accepted one of the tankards from Trevelyan, nodding to her with a soft smile before turning back to Dorian and Cullen. “I never thought I’d see the Commander in here! Wait, does Varric know yet?” The Qunari turned and looked around the room, searching for the dwarf. It was so crowded in the room though Cullen wasn’t sure that anyone would be able to spot the dwarf unless he was right with them.

“I’m happy you finally have come to join us, Commander.” Trevelyan said, her voice gentler than the normal waspish tone.

Dorian was watching Cullen closely, sipping more at his wine. He finally turned towards the Inquisitor. “I’m happy to see you joining us.”

“Dorian...” Trevelyan murmured, reaching a small hand out to touch the mage’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, now that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing our esteemed Commander drink a full tankard of ale in under half a minute? I can’t really complain.”

“Really?!” Iron Bull turned back from his search for Varric. “I’d like to see that!” The large warrior turned and looked at Cullen as if he were suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. “How about a competition, Commander?” The large grin that spread across the other’s grey-ish face had a predatory look to it.

“I-um... I think I’m going to pass. Another time, perhaps.” He said, sipping lightly at his tankard again.

“No fun!” Bull bellowed, as close to a whine as the Qunari was probably capable of getting.

“At least let us share in the whiskey you seem to be enjoying as well.” Trevelyan said, her thin hand reaching over and taking Dorian’s own mostly small cup of whiskey. She sniffed at it daintily and then sipped at the rim. “Oof.” She mumbled, handing the cup back to Dorian.

The Tevinter laughed and nodded. “I told you! It tastes of Fereldan!” He cried, looking back at Cullen with a look of triumph.

Everyone gathered around laughed at the comment. Everyone except Cullen.

“Well then Fereldan tastes delightful...” He mumbled, the liquor making his pout more pronounced than if he’d been sober.

Iron Bull chuckled and waved the barkeep down again. “Two more of those!” He said pointing at the cup clutched in Cullen’s fingers.

The stout man behind the bar grunted and grabbed up two more small cups and filled them up to the brim as well, sliding them over to the Bull.

“Put it on my tab, Cab.” Bull grinned as the man just eyed him and then walked away. “He’s a great guy.” The Iron Bull commented, grabbing up the cups and handing one to Trevelyan gently before turning back to face Dorian and Cullen. There was something in the way the Qunari looked at the Inquisitor and the way the small woman looked back that... seemed... different. Cullen couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “To kicking ass! And killing dragons!” The Bull gruffed, lifting his cup up towards the middle of their small circle.

“Hey!” A voice called from the other side of the room. “You weren’t goin’ to invite us, then?!” Sera came rushing over through the crowd, pushing a stumbling Orlesian dignitary out of her way as she came over. “I think we should be included! We help out and stuff!” She said, motioning over her shoulder towards Cole and Blackwall, who had seemed to just materialize out of the woodwork.

“We’d never forget you, Sera!” Trevelyan said, reaching an arm out and wrapping around the slender elf’s shoulders. There was a distinct ease around the Inquisitor that Cullen had never seen before. Usually his interactions with the woman were all business. But this seemed to be a new side of her. She was far more at ease than usual. Suddenly, Cullen wished he could be part of the traveling band of adventurers if only to see the more relaxed side of Lady Trevelyan more often. Or maybe Cullen himself just needed to take more time off from work and spend more time in casual settings.

“Three more!” Bull called, the barkeep waving brief over to him and continuing to hand out drinks at the other end of the bartop.

Cullen couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he looked around at the gathered mass of people. Sera was fluffing Trevelyan’s hair, Iron Bull was chatting with Blackwall about their latest expeditions, Cole had slid his way over to stand near Dorian and ask the mage about the liquor he was drinking. So many from different backgrounds. And there were others as well. All brought together by the indomitable will of Lady Trevelyan the Herald of Andraste, The Inquisitor of the Faithful.

Eventually the bartender was able to make his way over to the ground and laid out three more of the cups of liquor. Sera laid a handful of coins on the bar top and picked up one of the cups, sipping gently at the amber liquid that sloshed near the rim.

“Wow, they definitely don’t skimp on their pours here.” Blackwall noted as he picked up his own cup. “Thank you, Sera. I’ll buy the next round.” He gruffed at the elf, also sipping at the liquid that spilled over the top of his cup.

“Now! Let’s drink!” Bull roared, lifting up his own small cup. It looked comically tiny in his large hand and Cullen couldn’t help the smirk as he lifted his own up.

“What shall we toast to?”

“Clearly we should toast to our stunningly beautiful Inquisitor.” Dorian said, smiling and winking at the woman.

She smirked and shook her head. “That’s boring. And over used.”

“Let’s toast to my arrows! For being so good at killing smarmy, snot nosed noble pricks!”

Cullen felt his eyebrow twitch upwards and the corner of his mouth also slipped upwards in amusement.

“Well, if we’re toasting Sera’s arrows, then we should toast my well timed fireballs.” Dorian quipped.

“Or let’s just admit,” A gravelly voice pipped up from behind Iron Bull, “that it’s all Bianca. And toast to her.” Varric slipped between Blackwall and Iron Bull, a large tankard nearly half the size of his torso in hand.

“There you are! Dorian said he watched the Commander chug a full tankard of ale!” Bull exclaimed at the red headed dwarf.

“Oh. I heard a commotion, I didn’t realize it was Curly. I’m sorry I missed that!”

Cullen felt his cheeks flush a deep red and he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, clearing his throat loudly.

“Let’s drink already! Just toast to good health and long life!” Blackwall said exasperated with the bickering.

“Hear, hear!” Dorian said, lifting his cup up high. The rest of the troupe also lifted theirs, a giant tankard touching near the bottoms of them all. And then all together they tossed the liquor back, Varric taking a large drink of his ale.

Cullen hissed again as the liquor burned his throat and warmed his stomach. It was a lot of liquor, nearly two full gulps of the amber smoky liquid. It bloomed in his abdomen and swept through his chest, savaged his throat, before a burp escaped silently through his nose. Which burned enough to make Cullen’s eyes water in protest.

Dorian was once more making a strange hacking noise like a cat. Sera was laughing loudly at the man. Varric was laughing with Iron Bull.

Cullen moaned softly, tapping his fingers on his chest over a particularly warm spot. “I think that’s enough for me... Fer t’night.” He slurred, his mouth feeling a little cottony. Without thinking, he lifted his large tankard and took another gulp in an attempt to wash away the woody after taste of the whiskey.

“No!” Iron Bull said, “I still want to see you do this chugging trick!”

Cullen’s vision swam a little. But a grin spread across his now numbed face. “I thought you said earlier something about a competition?”

Iron Bull’s eye widened in excitment. “Yes!” He roared, his hand lifting his own tankard high in the air. “Cabot! Top off our drinks, we’re having a challenge!”

As soon as Bull announced the challenge, Sera was up and taking bets from surrounding bystanders. Cole whispered something to Dorian and then Tevinter mage laughed before agreeing with the spirit.

“What?” Cullen asked, feeling a little nervous about the idea of battling Iron Bull at anything. He knew for a fact that it’d be a hard won battle to best the Qunari in hand to hand combat. In fact, Cullen was quite sure he’d lose.

Bull snatched the half full tankard from Cullen’s suddenly numb fingers and handed it to the barkeep so the man could top both the drinks off.

“You are very brave, Commander!” Dorian drawled out, coming close and tracing a finger over Cullen’s shoulder as he snaked around behind and to the other side. Dorian came close, his face near, breath warm against Cullen’s ear. “Taking on a Qunari one on one? I’m suitably impressed.”

Cullen once more blushed, pulling away a bit from the other man to look at him. “Your continual taunting is irritating me, mage.”

There was a soft laugh nearby. “Good luck, Sparkler. From what I remember, Curly here is harder to bed than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Dorian shrugged and stepped away, sipping at his wine again. “I figure half the fun is the chase anyway.”

Cullen sighed heavily and reached out to take the offered refilled tankard from Iron Bull as the Qunari returned with them.

“There’s five for Cullen, and 9 for Iron Bull!” Sera chimed in, her hands full of paper slips with names and bets on them.

“I should make betting illegal inside the walls.” Cullen growled, suddenly regretting agreeing to the whole thing. His face was still numb from the whiskey and his vision was not improving either. But at least he didn’t feel any cool. He did feel... warm though. Would have to go out for a walk in the cool night air soon.

“Alright! Rules are simple. First one to completely finish off their full tankard is the winner!”

“Wait! Sera, one more bet!” Dorian’s hand was suddenly deep into Cullen’s pocket, grabbing at the coins inside.

Cullen squawked awkwardly and jumped away from the Tevinter, spilling some ale onto his shirt. “My shirt!” He proclaimed, wiping furiously at the brown stain now spreading across his chest.

“Here you are...” Dorian looked at his pilfered coins, “Looks like... Three coppers and... wow, one whole gold soverign!” He said, handing the four coins over to the blonde elf.

“No!” Cullen tried to reach for the coins that quickly disappeared from Dorian’s hand into Sera’s belt pouch. “That’s my money!”

“And I’m betting it on you, so best you don’t lose.” Dorian winked.

“Alright! Let’s do this! Come over here, everyone should see this, we shouldn’t hide in a corner!” Iron Bull grabbed Cullen’s shoulder and forcefully escorted the smaller human to the center of the large room. The bard grinned wolfishly as she strummed a sudden tense cord over and over in anticipation of the competition.

“Ready!” Trevelyan shouted, hand in the air. Iron Bull faced Cullen and saluted him lazily.

“Good luck, Commander.”

Cullen nodded back at the Qunari. “And to you.” He mumbled, heart racing. Both men lifted their tankards up, ready to begin chugging as soon as –

“DRINK!” Trevelyan shouted, her arm coming down in a sweeping motion.

Cullen was quick to begin drinking the ale, it was warm, and burned with the fizz as it went down his throat in great gulps. He closed his eyes, tears springing to his lashes with the effervescent burn.

“Chug! Chug!” The crowd cheered, Cullen could hear a young woman in the background squealing in delight and chanting Iron Bull’s name.

The last of the ale slipped into his mouth and Cullen swallowed it forcefully as he slammed his tankard down onto the tabletop just next to him.

Iron Bull followed suit fractions of a second later, his eye watering and a large grin spread across his face.

“Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisiton’s unmatched forces is the winner!” Varric crowed loudly, and the rest of the room burst into a loud bellowing cheer. More hands slapped against Cullen’s back and he laughed loudly, even as Iron Bull groaned in disbelief.

“Where’s my winnings!” Dorian called out.

Cullen felt... off. He had not drank this much in a very long time. His stomach lurched with the fullness of the liquid and he breathed out, rubbing at his chest. “Ugh... I don’t feel so good.”

Trevelyan was quickly to his side, her smile gone and replaced with her normal stern face that Cullen was so used to.

“Come with me.” She murmured, leading Cullen out of the tavern and to a bench that sat outside. “Sit.” She said, gently holding his arm as he sat down, his vision swimming more now. He felt unsteady, as if he were still on a boat on the Waking Sea. “You’ve had quite a bit of revelry, Commander.”

“More than I’ve had....” Cullen shifted uncomfortably for a moment before a loud burp escaped. “Well that’s better.” He muttered... Slumping forward. His world was still rocking violently but at least the pressure in his stomach was lessened.

A small hand rubbed on his back in small circles and Cullen sighed softly. “I think Dorian is rather smitten with you.” Trevelyan said after a moment.

“Mm... I fear I can only offer him friendship.”

“He’s had a hard time of it. I... Did he tell you about his father?”

“A brief story...” Cullen groaned and let his head fall to his knees. His stomach churned angrily and he had to take a deep breath and sit back up.

The small hand was cold against his back and moved up to touch the back of his neck. “You’ll need quite a bit of water after this.”

“Are you and Iron Bull...” Cullen’s hand flailed around a bit in the air as he searched for a way of putting it tactfully. “Having... relations?” He asked, struggling to sound articulate.

“I... We... Yes. Does that bother you?”

“No! No, of course not. I just... Was curious.” Cullen tried a small smile and fell back to lean against the side of the building behind them, his eyes sliding shut.

“Right... Anyway, Dorian. His father... He... When he learned Dorian was attracted to men, he... He tried to do a blood ritual...”

“Tevinters.” Cullen snarled, his upper lip curling in disgust.

“Yes... Well, what I’m trying to say, Cullen... Is please. Just... Be kind to him.”

“I have always been kind to him.” Cullen drawled out. His stomach wasn’t churning as badly as long as he kept his eyes shut and his head back. In fact he felt he could fall asleep, right here. Out in the cool night air, with the sounds of the crickets, music, laughter... It was peaceful. Wonderful. He was floating on a cloud of alcohol. A wonderful sleepy...

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, Commander. We’ve barely even begun.” A familiar drawling voice said.

Cullen’s eyes opened slowly and he looked up at Dorian standing in front of him, the Tevinter still clutching his wine glass. The Inquisitor was gone.

“I think I am finished.” Cullen said, waving one hand and sighing heavily. “‘ts t’me for sleep now.” He slurred.

“How quaint. Your backwoods accent gets so thick when you’re drunk.” Dorian sat down next to him and a warm shoulder pressed against Cullen’s own. “You know... You aren’t so bad. For a Templar.”

“I don’t mind you either. For a Magister.”

“Altus.”

“Same thing.”

Dorian snorted and sipped at his wine glass some more. They sat in warm companionable silence for awhile. “You know... That was quite the display in there. You won back almost double the amount I bet.” Coins clinked and Cullen cracked open an eye to glance at Dorian’s open hand. He had move his head, settling the side of head against the top of Dorian’s as he looked down.

“Well, isn’t that just magic.” He murmured, closing his eye again and leaning his own weight against Dorian’s side, letting the full weight of his head rest against the other’s. “You smell like roses.”

Dorian laughed pleasantly. “Yes, it’s how enthrall all those single men, you know. Smelling of roses.”

“‘Ts nice.” Cullen slurred.

“Cullen...”

“Mm?”

“Would you ever...”

The world suddenly lurched, sliding sideways and Cullen sat upright immediately, the quick movement off balancing his delicate equilibrium and sending him tilting the other way. Where he promptly released a liquidy expulsion of ale.

“Oh... My.” Dorian said. “Come along.” The Tevinter grabbed Cullen’s arm when he finally stopped heaving into the bush. “Don’t want anyone to see that you did all that.”

Cullen groaned and wiped at his mouth with the back of his arm. “Maker... I can’t believe I let Iron Bull talk me into the second tankard. I should have stopped at one.”

“Or you should come drink with us more often, and build up that tolerance.” Dorian’s hand was gentle as it helped Cullen stand up. Cullen stumbled to a standing position and sighed.

“Well, I feel a lot better.” He said, swallowing thickly. “But I need some water.”

“Let’s get you to bed, and I’ll get you some water.” Dorian was still holding his wine glass as he slid under Cullen’s arm, letting the drowsy Templar lean against him and they made a wobbly, precarious way back up the stairs to Cullen’s sleeping quarters in the tower.

His bed was soft and welcome as he slipped from Dorian’s grasp and fell into the cold sheet. Dorian took a long drink from his wine glass and set it down on a nearby bedside table.

“Boots.” The mage said, reaching down and taking off Cullens boots. They slipped off with relative ease, as they were well worn soft leather boots. “Alright. Are you cold?”

“Mm...” Cullen murmured and tried to throw a blanket over himself. It didn’t work out very well and he gave up after a second half hearted attempt. The blanket was lifted and placed over him gently. The smell of roses wafted through the air briefly.

“I’ll be right back with some water.” Dorian turned and left, the floor boards creaking under his weight. He descended the ladder much easier than they had gone up the ladder.

Cullen sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling. The world swirled around him and he shifted uncomfortably in the bed, suddenly feeling very alone. He hadn’t really thought about it, not for a long time. Being alone, having the bed to himself. It wasn’t exactly a problem. He always had so much to focus on when it came to work.

Cullen rubbed his forehead, taking deep calming breaths. Time passed as if a blur, his world swirling around him in a not terribly unpleasant way.

The sound of footsteps below brought him back from his thoughts. “‘ello?” He called out, his voice thick.

“Hello!” Dorian called back, climbing up the ladder awkward with a plate and another large tankard of... something. “I had to return my cup. And make sure I got you some of that promised water. Do you want it cold? Or just the room temperature. You seem a room temperature fellow.”

Cullen blinked at Dorian a couple times before attempting his best at sitting up. “Was tha’?” He asked, pointing towards the plate.

“I pilfered some bread and cheese from Sera. Maybe I’m more of a rogue than I am a mage. I should change my area of study. Learn to pickpocket. And... string bows. And... sing, or whatever it is they do.” Dorian shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sit up.”

Cullen frowned at him. “Are you commanding me?”

“Yes. Sit up.” Dorian kicked off his own boots and slid back onto the bed, leaning against the head board and picking up a piece of bread to chew on the end of while Cullen struggled with the covers to sit up. “Here. Drink”

“I just released a lot of liquid and now you want me to have more?” Cullen asked, taking the tankard hesitantly. “I’m afraid of your motives.”

Dorian chuckled. “I don’t bed drunk men. Well, no that’s a lie. I don’t get men drunk in order to bed them. I have, of course, been drunk and slept with other drunk men. And that’s water. As I said earlier.”

Cullen lifted the heavy tankard to his lips and sipped tentatively at the contents. When it was indeed cool, clean water that brushed his tongue, he ended up guzzling three large mouthfuls.

“Not too fast, I don’t want you spewing all over your bed sheets. The maids would murder you. And even Leliana couldn’t stop them.” Dorian continued to chew on his bread and held the plate out towards Cullen.

Cullen sighed in contentment and waved away the food. He sipped at the water some more before setting it to the side. He was feeling better with every passing second. Although his face was still tingly numb. At least the world wasn’t sideways.

“Lady Trevelyan.... Told me more... about...” Cullen stopped, wondering if he should even bring it up. He decided against it and when Dorian stopped chewing and set the platter to the side, Cullen knew he had made the right choice in not continuing to voice his thoughts out loud. “Nevermind. I think I’m going to sleep now.” He muttered, sliding back down into the covers of the bed.

“Very well.” Dorian stood up. “I’ll leave this here for you.” He pointed at the plate of bread and cheese chunks. As he walked towards the ladder to go down he paused briefly and looked over his shoulder, a sad countenance on his face. “Thank you, Cullen. For everything.”

Cullen felt his throat tighten. He couldn’t imagine his family not loving him for who he was. They were exasperated at him for being stand offish, for being wrapped up in his job and forgetful about writing. But they loved him no matter what. They loved him for who he was. “Dorian.” He called out. “Come back.” His voice was soft, so soft it startled even him that it made a sound at all.

Dorian paused at the exit and turned. “I’m sorry?”

“C’mere. Don’t go... Crying alone. My sister says I’m quite a good hugger.” Cullen patted the bed beside him.

Dorian stared at him with a confused expression. “Did you just... offer to... cuddle me, Commander?”

Cullen sighed exasperatedly and rolled over, his back facing Dorian. “Fine! Go then. Forget I said anything.” He grabbed a pillow and fluffed it before placing it under his head.

It was silent for a moment and then the floor creaked again as Dorian walked back towards the bed. His boots once more hit the floor with a thud and Cullen felt the bed dip behind him.

Cullen’s heart pounded furiously. What was he doing? He wasn’t even remotely interested in... other men that way. Of course he wasn’t against it either. And the past few months his occasional talks with Dorian had brought the mage into ‘Friendship’ territory. A cold hand touched his shoulder tentatively and Cullen rolled over, facing the mage that was staring at him with wide, searching eyes.

“I... would like a hug very much.” Dorian whispered, as if just the words themselves would have Cullen sending him flying from the room.

One arm lifted from Cullen’s side and draped around Dorian’s waist, it was slimmer than Cullen thought, almost dainty. His other arm slid beneath Dorian’s ribs, and he pulled the mage close. Dorian was stiff at first, but loosened up after a moment of the contact. His breath was warm and damp against Cullen’s throat.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. Dorian.” Cullen murmured softly into the cool air of the room. The other’s hair tickled under his chin, and Cullen brought his hand up to cup the back of Dorian’s head, pulling him close enough that Dorian’s face pressed against his neck. They were silent for a long, moment. The world swirled around Cullen still with the alcohol and the warmth from Dorian’s body making him drowsy. Eyelids began to slide shut when a soft sniffle from the other man brought him back.

Tears dropped along Cullen’s collar bone, seeping wetly into the shoulder of his shirt. He didn’t say anything, but his arms held the other closer as silent sobs wracked the mage’s body. The room smelled of roses. And the song of the veil twinkled gently between the two.

Templars were meant to protect mages. And with Dorian’s tears damp on his collar bone and his arms wrapped tightly around the other, Cullen felt like more of a Templar than he had in a very long time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian learns of Cullen's state and worries for his new found friend.

“And the armies of Andraste raised their voices  
Singing a hymn of praise to the Maker. And feared no more.  
And Andraste went apart to seek the Maker’s wisdom.  
For the battle to come...”

Cullen let out a long sigh, his shoulders were aching slightly from the hunched position he prayed. His eyes drew upwards along the statue that stood in front of him, Andraste proud and true. Her hands held out before her in a placating gesture to those that came to offer obeisance to her. Cullen let his head fall back to his chest, he hands clasped together in front of him.

“So pious!” A mocking voice said behind him.

Cullen’s jaw clenched as he was brought out of his meditative state and back to the here and now. He didn’t say anything only stood up, releasing a grunt as his knees cracked with the motion. He’d been kneeling a long time. It was almost painful as the blood rushed back to his legs.

“I don’t mean to disturb you, please continue. I’ll just watch.”

Cullen rubbed at the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily before turning around. “How can I be of service?” He asked wearily, turning to look at Dorian with a tired expression. He’d heard that the Inquisitor and her companions had returned from the Emerald Graves recently. They’d been trying to find more information about how and when Corypheus planned on striking at the Empress. And Cullen had been busy night and day with the flood of new volunteers that came from every corner of Thedas. Most barely even had the wherewithal to hold a sword by the non-pointy end. It was exhausting.

“I had only come to see you. After all, we’ve been gone so long, I thought maybe you might have missed my charms.” Dorian grinned at Cullen.

“Mm... Indeed. I have a lot of work yet to attend to. If you don’t need anything?” Cullen side stepped around Dorian and out of the small room of prayer. The night after the tavern incident, Cullen had woken with a splitting headache, and Dorian had been gone. The Inquisitor and her companions had saddled up and left at first break of light two days later, and Cullen had not seen nor spoken to the mage before they’d departed.

“Does she ever answer you?” Dorian asked, his grey eyes set up the towering statue.

“No. At least not in words.” Cullen glanced back over his shoulder at Dorian before turning and heading away. He felt awkward around the other man for some reason. He’d seen the other in a very vulnerable way those weeks ago. And now Cullen didn’t know what to say exactly.

“Are you truly terribly busy? I came to see if you might want a game of chess.” Dorian gestured over towards a small ches board set in the courtyard.

Cullen paused in his retreat and turned to look at the other. “I suppose... there’s time for one game.” He should really get to work, but Cullen had a difficult time turning down a good game of chess. A weak spot of his.

“Fantastic! I’ve already set up the board!” Dorian swept past Cullen, heading directly for the chess board where two chairs were set up before the game. Cullen couldn’t help the smile that warmed his face.

Dorian settled into his chair, his long fingers fixing a couple pieces on the board as Cullen walked over and settled into the other chair. His plated coat rattled with the movement, and he had to remove his sword belt and set it to the side of his seat. “White moves first?” Cullen said, reaching out to turn his knight piece slightly.

“In Tevinter it’s always the Black pieces that move first. Toss a coin?” Dorian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small copper piece.

Cullen shrugged and nodded. “Face.” He called as the coin twisted through the air. Dorian caught the coin smoothly and slapped it onto the back of his hand.

“Tsk tsk. Looks as if Andraste did hear your prayer. You move first.”

Cullen smiled and reached out, sliding a pawn forward. They sat quietly for a few moments, each taking their first moves quickly and decisively. Cullen was mulling over if he should move a knight out when Dorian sat back in his chair and stretched a leg out.

“I wanted to thank you. For the other night.” He said. Cullen looked up from the board and was met with a serious expression on the mage’s face. His grey eyes were firmly latched with Cullen’s own. Cullen kept waiting for the taunting smirk to appear, the wicked wink. But it didn’t happen.

“Ah. You’re welcome. Of course.” He murmured, turning his attention back to the board, his fingers gripped the top of his knight tightly as he slid it across the board and snagged one of Dorian’s pawns.

Dorian reached over and moved his rook a couple paces, his fingers laying lightly on the top of the piece as he examined the board for a moment before sitting back. His attention landed squarely on Cullen again and the ex-Templar shifted uncomfortably under the stare as he slid another pawn forward a pace, trying to goad the mage into bringing out his queen.

“You must play this game quite a bit.” Dorian commented, reaching over and moving one of his knights to take Cullen’s pawn. “But dare I say, so have I.”

Cullen smirked up at the other and moved his rook sideways, snagging the knight. It wasn’t the Queen but it was still a victory on the field of battle. “I played quite a lot in my youth.” He said, making a steeple with his fingers in front of his mouth and he watched the mage mull over his next move. There was a new mark on the other’s cheek. It wasn’t big, just a small scratch. Cullen observed the white scar. “Were you wounded?” He asked, running his finger over his own cheek in approximate area of Dorian’s new scar when the other looked up at him.

“A Venatori rogue got me, yes. Solas says it won’t scar permanently. So my good looks will return, no need to fear.” Dorian slid a piece forward and looked up at Cullen with a smirk. “Check.” He said.

Cullen glanced down at the board, his eyebrows raising in shock. “Well played.” He murmured.

“Are you two playing nice?” A feminine voice asked beside them.

“I’m always nice.” Dorian drawled, a large grin spreading his face as the Inquisitor walked over.

“Inquisitor!” Cullen exclaimed, beginning to stand up.

“Does this mean you forfeit then?”

Cullen paused, half standing to look at Dorian with a glare before he slowly sat back down. He reached over, moving his knight that he’d positioned, and then smirked up at Dorian. “Check-mate.” He said, feeling rather satisfied with the quick win.

Dorian looked taken a back for a moment, glancing at the board. He then smirked as he stood up. “Don’t get smug. There’d be no living with you.” He said, nodding to the Inquisitor as he walked away.

“I came to speak with you about the troop movements.” The Inquisitor said, her eyes looking at the chess board.

“Of course, Inquisitor. Would you care for a game, while we speak?”

“I... Would. Set up the board, Commander.” She took a seat across from him, her small hands adjusting her pieces as Cullen began to reset his own.

***

Cullen sighed as he removed his large coat, letting it settle onto the armor rack he’d had made for it. The wood creaked under the weight and Cullen shifted his shoulders, rolling them a few times. They were sore from the sword play practice he’d engaged in with Cassandra earlier. She was like an indomitable force and was as unrelenting in practice as she was on the field.

Cullen’s head was aching painfully, but not from alcohol. His whole body was beginning to feel on fire. He’d had to bow out of the practice sooner than usual. Cassandra had been worried, fussing over him briefly (or as much as Cassandra could fuss) before he’d turned and headed back towards his tower.

Papers fluttered in a breeze from his open window and Cullen gathered them up, placing them neatly inside a leather folder before setting them into a drawer on the large desk. His forehead glistened with sweat, his whole body burning up. The lyrium withdrawl was unrelenting at times. Sleep lately was coming in shorter and shorter bursts, making it harder to pay attention during exercises, and Cullen was feeling irrationally angry at small mistakes made by the newer recruits.

There was a gentle knock on the door and Cullen groaned softly. “Enter.” He called out, his hands gripping the edge of the desk tightly in an attempt to keep him grounded.

“You missed supper.” Dorian said, stepping in, a plate in his hand. After their chess game and the Inquisitor’s interruption, Cullen hadn’t spoken with the mage for the next couple of days. He’d seen the other lingering in the background, watching him. But the man hadn’t approached, had remained distant as they bustled about getting things ready for the Grand Ball Peace Talks at the Winter Palace.

“I’m not hungry.” Cullen growled, looking back down at the desk. A bead of sweat tickled the side of his temple and Cullen wiped at it angrily.

“I also brought you a drink. Water, of course.” The cup and plate were set gingerly down on the edge of the large wooden desk and Cullen’s eyes glanced at them briefly before he had to shut them as a wave of hot pain flashed through his head.

“Thank. You.” He snarled. “I am quite tired, however. And not in a good mood for company.”

Dorian continued to linger, his feet shuffling side to side in Cullen’s periphery.

Cullen finally looked up, his face an angry scowl. “What? Do you desire another chess game? Is there no one else to amuse you?”

Dorian stood, his face passive as he watched the blonde. Cullen waited, lips pinched tight in anger, for the snarky remark that was sure to follow his outburst. But Dorian remained silent, his grey eyes studying Cullen’s face.

The sound of the torn Veil tinkled in the background and Cullen growled as he reached up and clutched at his head, his temples throbbing angrily to the gentle lilting music.

“When did you stop taking it?” Dorian asked, still remaining at the corner of the desk.

“What?” Cullen asked, the bite in his tone lessened as he rubbed at his forehead for any kind of relief.

“The Lyrium. When did you stop taking it?”

Cullen looked sharply up at the mage. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“The Inquisitor told me.” Dorian answered the unasked question. “Cassandra confirmed it. She says you’re doing well. I’ve read about Lyrium withdraw in non-mages.” Dorian’s face took a concerned look.

“You needn’t worry for me, Magister.” Cullen barked. “Only know I may not take Lyrium anymore, but I am not helpless.”

Dorian stepped back, looking shocked at the vitriol in Cullen’s tone. “I never thought such a thing. I came tonight... to tell you I am a friend and am here if you need anything.” He said, keeping his tone gentle.

The silence between them drew out, all except the Veil’s song. Cullen’s breath was loud in his ear as he glowered at the mage, and Dorian’s face was pale as he watched Cullen.

“Do I frighten you?” Cullen hissed, his breathing coming in raspy gasps.

“No.” Dorian answered, though the way the other’s body was tense spoke otherwise.

“Then why do you look at me as I might attack you at any moment? Does your knowledge that I no longer take Lyrium change your opinion of me so much?”

Dorian was quite for a moment and then the other’s body relaxed slightly, and he took a step forward towards Cullen. “I am not afraid of you. I only fear for you.”

Cullen sighed, the incessant throbbing in his head making his legs weak. He slowly sank t the chair behind him, groaning in pain, sweat beading and dripping down his forehead. It hadn’t been this bad for a long time. He let his head fall backwards as both hands reached up to rub at his face. A cool breeze swept in through the window and Cullen sighed as it brushed his flame hot skin.

A cool hand was placed against his forehead and Cullen jumped, moving away from the touch. Dorian was standing over him, his eyes sad as he looked down. “I want to help. You’re very warm.”

“There is nothing you can do. It is a burden I must bear.” Cullen said, shifting to stand up from his chair. But a strong grip on his shoulder kept from his standing up or moving away. Cullen looked up sharply at the other man.

“Did I ever tell you about Felix? He had contracted the Blight. He was dying, you see. I remember hearing the news and thinking ‘Dorian, what can we do to help, he’s your only true friend.’ So... While it’s not my specialty, I have learned a bit of magic to relieve pain. Also reduce fever.” The long tan fingers lifted from Cullen’s shoulder to thread through his sweat soaked hair. “It’s not a lot. But I... care about you. And would like to help however I can. Allow me this, Commander.” Dorian said softly, his fingers cool as they tousled through Cullen’s naturally wavy locks.

Cullen was stiff as the other man moved to stand behind him. There was something un-said in Dorian’s plee to help. But Dorian’s hands rubbed at Cullen’s shoulder’s, the long thin fingers were strong as they worked the muscle beneath the light woolen shirt. They worked their way over to his neck, their touch light and cool against inflamed skin. Cullen swallowed thickly and couldn’t help the sigh of relief as a tendril of magic wove across his skin, gently cooling the fever that raged.

A shiver ran over his body as Dorian’s hands worked deftly at massaging his tense neck and shoulders. Cullen had a brief though about how he hadn’t been touched this way in a very long time. But his eyes slid shut as his head fell forward, the headache that had been plaguing him for days now ebbed away to a dull ache rather than the torrential storm it had been. Fingers ran through the hair at the base of his head and he released a soft sigh of pleasure as the magic wove along the base of his skull, easing the tension in his ears and forehead.

Dorian was quiet, his body warm behind Cullen’s chair. “If we move to the bed, I can do more.” He whispered, his voice gentle in the cool air.

Cullen’s eyes snapped open and he pulled away, the loss of the magic touch allowing the headache to come raging back. He winced as he stood up quickly. A wave of light headedness caused him to stumble against the desk. He gasped as the pain came flooding back in great waves, crashing against his body, threatening to tear him apart. Cullen looked over at Dorian, his face twisted in a rictus of pain. “What do you want from me?” He hissed.

Dorian looked sad and he shook his head. “I only offer relief tonight, Commander. I do not ask for anything more. You were there for me, now let me return the favor. Please.”

Cullen heaved a sigh, the desire to have that magic take away the pain that throbbed in his temples overwhelmed any other though. “Very well.” He said, stumbling away and towards his ladder up to his bed. There was a steadying hand on his waist as he swayed a little as he stepped up the rungs.

Finally he was up in the sleeping area. Dorian climbed up after him, motioning towards the bed. “Take off your shirt.” He said matter-of-factly.

Cullen flushed at the forwardness but did as he was told, removing the rough wool undershirt and tossing it to the side.

“Lay face down.” Dorian was taking off his own boots, setting them neatly by the side of the bed. Cullen kicked off his boots and climbed into the bed, laying as directed. His arms came up to rest under his pillow beneath his head as he lay face down. There was a creaking on the bed as Dorian climbed in and straddled Cullen’s thighs, settling gingerly onto the backs of them.

Cullen glanced up and back at Dorian, but the mage just pushed his head back down before running his hands along the width of Cullen’s shoulders. His fingers danced along Cullen’s spine down to his waist. Cullen tensed and growled in warning. A soft chuckle from the mage was his answer.

“Relax.” Dorian whispered, his fingers strong as they began to work tight circles back up along Cullen’s spine. Tendrils of magic wove across his skin, and every now and then Dorian’s hands would pause, pressing palm flat against his back as the other seemed to reach inside and gently release a spiral of tension that had built up along Cullen’s spinal cord.

Dorian’s hands were slender, strong, soft. And Cullen soon found himself falling asleep to the constant gentle pressure, the cooling magic that would linger, and the very faint music that was ever present. Dorian continued his minstrations, moving up until his fingers were once more entwined in Cullen’s hair, moving the soft blonde strands around. His thumb would brush every now and then against his temple, or caress the soft shell of his ear.

Cullen’s breathing eased more, his shoulder’s relaxing, his neck loosening up. The headache slipped away, becoming nothing more than a faint memory. Cullen’s eyes slipped shut and he turned his head to rest the side of his face against the pillow as sleepiness slipped over him.

As Cullen’s breathing eased into the steady, deep rhythm of sleep, his eyes shut, his face relaxed, Dorian’s fingers moved their way back down to the Commander’s broad shoulders. On his left, there was a large, angry red and puckered hook shaped scar that ran from the top of his shoulder and ended just below his armpit. Dorian’s fingers traced the raised skin, wondering at it.

Cullen lay in his drowsy state, eyes closed, as he felt the other’s soft finger tips press against the scar from a time long past. A time when he would never have allowed a mage to touch him, let alone do healing magic as Dorian had. Cullen kept his breathing even and steady, wondering what Dorian would do if he told the other where the scar came from. It he told him about the Abomination that had nearly removed his arm at the shoulder when it’s long, sharp claw had found the joint in his armor, tearing viciously at the soft leather padding and flesh below.

The memories alone still woke him in the middle of the night. The memories of Fereldan’s Circle. Kinloch Hold. What did the Tevinter know of that horrific time. Did he know any of the horrors that Cullen had endured there?

It was quiet for a heart beat, Cullen could feel Doran’s eyes on his face. When the other must have assumed he was asleep, the bed creaked as the other lifted himself off Cullen’s thighs. The mage hovered over him on all fours. Cullen could feel his presence, feel his body just above his own. It took everything in him to not push the other away. Cool fingers threaded through his hair again, and a soft finger brushed along the scar at Cullen’s lip. It followed the thin white line from top to bottom, the pad of the finger a whisper of a touch against his skin.

Dorian still didn’t say anything, but the body above him shifted slightly. Hair was brushed from Cullen’s temple and there was the feel of warm lips pressing chaste against his skin, the rough feel of facial hair on his forehead. Cullen’s breath caught in his throat and the lips were pulled away quickly. The body slid away from his own, the bed moving as Dorian sat on the edge.

One of Cullen’s eyes cracked open and he watched as Dorian pulled on his boots in the soft silvery moon light. The mage stood and walked away, his footsteps feather light as he left, not a word spoken. Cullen watched the other disappear through the entrance, and lay there staring at the empty space as he listened to the door of his room open and gently close.


	7. Friends Don't Let Friends Dance Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has decided perhaps allowing the mage a little deeper couldn't hurt. They were, after all, friends.

“Hold the shield up higher! There’s no point in having a shield to protect your body if you don’t have a head anymore!” Cullen shouted, reaching over and forcing the recruit’s shield up so that it covered his neck. “You need to learn to see around your shield. Be aware of your surroundings! Utilize your peers! A shield wall is only as good as the weakest part!”

The recruits all shuffled around a bit, before reforming their practice shield wall. A few struggled to hold their shields up high enough and Cullen made a mental note to have them taken aside for extra assistance.

“Commander.” A soft, effeminate Orlesian voice said next to him.

Cullen turned and looked at Leliana standing off to the side. Her red hair tucked neatly underneath her hood, her pale face smiling. She was cradling a large package of something in her arms.

“I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”

Cullen nodded towards her and waved over a trainer. “Keep their shields up.” He said, pointing towards the working group. He turned and headed off towards the Spy Master, his face neutral. Leliana rarely brought good news this early in the morning, even if she was smiling.

“How may I be of assistance?” He asked, following as Leliana turned and walked back up the stairs from the lower courtyards up to the upper courtyards.

“I have heard some interesting rumors this morning.” She said, her smile growing. Cullen frowned. Definitely not good.

“I see. What exactly have you heard?”

“I heard.... from a couple different sources... that a certain charming mage was seen leaving your room at a rather late hour.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed and he paused at the top of the stairs. “Really.” He dead panned, doing his best to not show his irritation.

Leliana’s smile turned into a small toothy grin and she laughed lightly. “Yes, Commander. I also heard that he had been inside for over an hour.”

“I didn’t know you enjoyed engaging in such frivolous rumors.” Cullen snorted and turned to begin walking further into the small upper courtyard again. “Besides... he was just helping me.”

“Yes, helping. For over an hour.” Leliana’s laugh tinkled brightly through the warm summer air. “I do not care who you spend your time with, I only came to tell you so that it wouldn’t be a surprise if someone else were to mention it.” She smiled at Cullen and reached out to touch his forearm.

Cullen sighed heavily and rubbed at his face. Of course this would happen. He supposed that rumors were bound to spread when there was very little else to speak of except for the impending end of the world. “I am not... we are... there is nothing...” He sighed again, realizing that he was just fueling the woman’s amusement.

“You have been spending quite a lot of time together.” Leliana teased. Cullen knew the woman was enjoying every second of his discomfort. When he didn’t respond, she sighed and wiped at her eye gently. “Very well. I have this to give to Dorian. Perhaps you would be kind enough to bring it to him.”

“And why can’t you give it to him?” He asked, eyeing the stack of books wrapped in vellum that was tucked against her chest.

“I have an interrogation to attend.” She said, handing the books over towards Cullen.

Cullen sighed heavily, taking the books. “And I have recruits to train. Is this not why we have subordinates?”

“I have a distinct feeling Dorian would be quite pleased if you were to give the books to him.”

Cullen lifted the stack of books, heavy and solid. “Are these...”

“Yes. As requested.” Leliana stepped away, heading for the door that lead into the dungeons of the keep.

Cullen watched her go before tucking the heavy stack of books under his arm and heading back down to where the recruits were drilling. He set the books down onto the table top where his other papers were stacked, turning to begin with the shield wall once more.

The sun was setting in a haze of pink and purple and Cullen groaned, stretching his arms high over his head. They had drilled with the shield for well over six hours. And afterward, Cullen had ensured that they got in time with their sword arms. Knowing that they would soon be marching with a full complement to the Winter Palace in Orlais, Cullen felt a burning need to train as many as he could before they left.

He walked over to his table, gathering up the papers of reports. The stack of books sat neatly, still wrapped tightly in the oiled vellum where he’d set them down earlier. Cullen eyed them, debating on taking them up at all. He remember the faint feel of lips against his forehead, the way the other man had been so tender with his touch against his scars. The books were important, at least to Dorian. But Cullen was having a strange anxious attack at the idea of seeing the other man. His heart skipped a beat as he reached out to smooth the bow tied neatly on top.

He growled softly, going back to sorting out his reports, fixing the papers into a neat stack that was tucked into it’s leather folder. It wasn’t completely out of the way to swing by the little library where Dorian was known to spend his time.

Cullen huffed, puffing out his cheeks as he eyed the books again. Or he could just... hand the books to the next passing servant. Be done with it, go to bed. He was tired.

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his forehead. Friends. That’s what they had toasted at the tavern all those weeks ago. They were friends. Cullen could be a friend.

It really wasn’t that far out of the way. His hand grabbed the string that tied the books together and hefted the books up, tucking them under his arm. He slipped the folder of reports also with the books and turned, heading up the stairs towards the sweeping front staircase of the keep. His arms ached with the weight of the books and Cullen shifted them to his other arm, walking up the staircase step by step.

Inside there was a gaggle of nobles standing around Vivienne as she regaled them with her courtly tales. There weren’t many mages that held her pious views, and Cullen smiled, nodding towards her as he passed. She smiled back briefly before returning her attention to the entourage.

Cullen turned and walked past the glowing fire place where Varric was usually waiting around. But the dwarf was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps getting himself some food for dinner. Cullen’s stomach rumbled loudly at the thought and he paused, looking at a table with a few offerings available. The full dinner wouldn’t be served for another hour, but there were small offerings available as pre-dinner bites. Or whatever it was the nobles enjoyed doing with their mouths when they weren’t scheming.

He walked through the door, briefly glancing at Solas who was painting part of his mural on the wall of the circular room. It was coming along nicely, but Cullen had no idea of what story it was depicting. And he had a distinct impression if he asked, Solas wouldn’t be too forth coming. Not that Cullen was interested, truth be told.

He turned and walked up the stairs, knees protesting the movement with crackling groans. He needed to sit. It had been a long and arduous day of training, and his body was not letting him forget. There was a distinct smell of books and birds near the top of the stairs. Thankfully Dorian wasn’t any closer to the top of the tower. Cullen’s thighs wobbled slightly as he took the last step up, he paused for a moment to catch his breath. The last of the sun’s light brightened the small nook where the mage was hunched over a table, four tomes spread out in front of him.

Cullen stopped, waiting for Dorian to notice his presence as he stood rigid at the edge of the fading light. But the other man was absorbed in his work, his fingers dancing over the pages of the books, every now and then a quill picked up to scratch a note onto a pad of paper nearby. Cullen waited for an uncomfortable minute, before clearing his throat loudly.

Dorian jumped and looked up at Cullen, his face startled. “Ah! Commander! I-I wasn’t expecting to see you.” He stumbled over his words, his cheeks turning dark with a blush as he took in Cullen’s form standing in the shadows.

Cullen hummed and stepped forward, inching into the faded sunlight, his arm reaching forward to hold out the stack of wrapped books. “These arrived for you.” He stated, face passive. He did his best not to also blush, the memory of the kiss against his skin burning hot on his forehead.

“Those... The Liberalum!” Dorian gasped, quickly stepping forward to take the stack of books from Cullen’s hand. He set them down and tore the string off, before gently unwrapping the vellum. His eyes swept over the first book, fingers tracing markings that Cullen was sure made words. Just not words that he understood.

Cullen waited as Dorian set one book reverently aside and unwrapped the second one. “Well... I’ll let you return to work.” He said, turning back to the stairwell. He was planning on grabbing some of that food that littered the tables in the great hall.

“Cullen...” Dorian called, stopping the blonde in his tracks. “Thank you.”

“You should thank Josephine and Leliana. They’re the ones who procured those for you.”

“Well... thank you for bringing them to me, at the very least. Seeing your face always brings me joy.” Dorian quipped, that smirk stretched across his face again.

Cullen nodded. “Of course. I aim to please.” He drawled out. “Good night, Dorian. Don’t work too hard.”

“Never, Commander. Sweet dreams.”

Cullen snorted a laugh softly and walked down the stairs, heading into the great hall where he filled a plate with food before heading back to his office.

****

The Winter Palace loomed ahead in it’s gaudy splendor. Leave it to the Orlesians to have a palace with very little strategic advantage. Cullen had to admit however, the gardens were beautiful. The Inquisitor was ahead of the small entourage, she was to meet with Duke Gaspard first before entering the ballroom for her introductions. Cullen fussed at the collar of his coat, pulling at his gently. He should have had the tailor take out the neck a little.

“Stop fussing.” Josephine hissed at him from his left. He shrugged at her and let his hand fall back to his horse’s reins.

Ahead of them the Inquisitor, Iron Bull, Dorian, and Cassandra all dismounted, allowing the collected servants to usher their mounts to the nearby stables. Nobles dressed in their finery and ridiculous masks all gawked openly at the small woman as she introduced herself to the Duke.

Cullen dismounted his own large roan, handing the reigns over to a petite elven woman. Leliana and Josephine dismounted as well, the three walking side by side through the crowds that muttered in their wake.

“Well, this is going to be an exciting evening!” Leliana looked like a cat that had gotten into the cream, Josephine also far too excited.

Cullen sighed heavily. He was never very good at social events.

“Josey! Oh, Josey!” A high female voice called, Josephine groaning under her breath at it’s cry.

“Yvette!” She called out, reaching out and catching a stunningly similar looking young woman that came stumbling out of the crowds towards them.

Cullen smiled and nodded to the two women and continued through the gardens, taking in the statues. Leliana had disappeared quickly, no doubt setting her spies up around the large castle grounds.

The summer air was warm and humid, the sound of music filtered gaily through the open windows. Cullen gladly took an offered glass of wine from a passing servant as he stopped to admire a rather well groomed rose bush. It was formed to the particular curve of a feminine body, without actually being a woman. He tilted his head slightly, wondering just how much time it would take to learn how to make a plant... do that.

“If you stare long enough, it might come to life and dance for you.”

Cullen stood up straight and turned quick on his heel. Dorian stood grinning beside him, clutching a glass of wine of his own. “I can’t say I’d turn it down for a dance.” Cullen murmured, sipping at the wine and turning to once more appreciate the horticulture.

Dorian moved closer to Cullen’s side. “I know a dance that would really get some hackles raised here. Just get me some colorful scarves.” 

Cullen snorted and sipped at his wine some more. He rolled his shoulders and turned around, looking at the more masculine rose bush that was neatly trimmed behind him. Dorian continued to linger next to him, the Tevinter almost uncomfortably close for such a public space. But the way the mage was eyeing the Orlesians loitering about the gardens, Cullen could only assume he was feeling just as out of place.

“Come!” Jospehine swept past, grabbing Cullen’s arm and Dorian’s hand. “Introductions are starting!” She said, pulling them along. Cullen grimaced as his wine spilled, staining the nice woolen overcoat’s sleeve. At least the thing was red as well.

They were pulled into the palace where Josephine released her death grip on them, her eyes scanning for the rest of the party. She waved towards the grand ballroom’s entrance doors. “Go! Go!” She hissed, turning and rushing off to collect the rest of the wayward group.

Dorian sighed heavily and quickly downed the rest of his glass of wine, setting the empty cup on a passing servant’s tray. He pulled on the front of his coat, smoothing it down. “I mean, they couldn’t get a better tailor? Although, I suppose at least we’re not wearing that.” Dorian said, his eyes looking at a man that was wearing a rather overly ornate coat and pair of trousers.

Cullen smirked and adjusted his own coat, once more reaching up to tug at the neckline. He sighed heavily, deciding it was a lost cause. He would have to go through the evening with a vague impression he was being choked to death.

“Here.” Dorian said, stepping in front of him and reached up. His fingers brushed against Cullen’s neck as they unbuttoned some of the tiny buttons that laced the front of his undershirt. The pressure against Cullen’s throat lessened. Not completely, but enough to be at least tolerable.

“Thank you.” Cullen said, reaching up to rub at the fabric that covered his neck.

“Don’t fuss with it. It Josephine sees that it’s been unbuttoned she’ll probably have a conniption.”

Cullen grimaced at the thought, taking one more sip from his wine before setting the glass down on a nearby marble table top.

“Hey!” Dorian exclaimed, picking the half full glass up and tilting the remaining contents into his own mouth.

“You think a few buttons will send her into hysterics? If you get drunk, she’ll find someone to murder you this very evening.”

Dorian winked at Cullen as they both headed for the ballroom. “I know you would protect me.”

“Hardly.”

Dorian gasped at Cullen, clutching at his chest in mock hurt as they stepped through the doors and into the large ballroom.

Josephine appeared from nowhere and quickly ushered Cullen to stand behind Lady Trevelyan and the Duke. Dorian was brought to stand near the end of the small group waiting to be introduced after the Inquisitor.

The evening itself turned out to be rather uneventful. Dorian was sent to watch the gardens out by a fountain. Cullen was forced to mingle with courtly ladies. According to Leliana it hadn’t been intentional, but she found the entire thing far to amusing. Cullen would glance up every now and then, wishing that someone, anyone, would save him from the tittering mass of women gathered around him. Occasionally the Inquisitor would stand next to Leliana and both women would watch, grinning like Cheshire cats in the background as Cullen continuously attempted his best at waving away marriage proposals. And the occasional offer to duel over a woman’s hand.

The Inquisitor and the other’s seemed to have a much more exciting evening. Eventually a plot came to light about the Empress’s cousin plotting to kill her, the Duke bringing mercenaries into the soiree, and some weird... sex thing with the Empress. Honestly it was a lot.

In the end, Lady Trevelyan allowed the assassination of the empress and placed the Duke onto the throne. A move that Cullen agreed with. Not that many others seemed pleased with the whole thing. Lady Florian’s body was removed from the gardens and the blood was neatly covered up with more white gravel.

The ball continued, as if nothing had happened at all. As if the usurper to the throne hadn’t just taken the throne. The nobles were a little more subdued, but they continued their stupid Game all the same.

Cullen had to get away from it all. He stepped out onto a balcony, leaning against the railing and staring out over the courtyard below. He was pretty sure it was where Dorian had been standing near the fountains all night. But now when Cullen looked down towards the fountain in the courtyard below, he didn’t see any of the garish red of the Inquisition’s formal wear. Perhaps the man had found someone to finally entertain him. Cullen glanced up at the sky, a few stars twinkling in the distance. In the far distance of the hillside he could see the lights from the village nearby settled amongst the dark hills that rolled for miles in every direction.

“Champagne?” Dorian asked, startling Cullen out of his musing.

“Oh.” The blonde man stood up straight and took the offered flute of bubbling wine. “Thank you.” He murmured, looking at the pale yellow liquid.

“Quite the evening!” Dorian said, twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. “It makes me a little homesick, honestly.”

Cullen only nodded and sipped at the sweet, bubbling liquid.

“Ah, ah! We haven’t toasted yet! The only proper way to drink champagne is to toast.” Dorian held up his glass towards Cullen.

Cullen licked at his lips and lifted his glass, gently touching it against Dorian’s own. “To Orlais.” He gruffed, the glasses making a soft tinkling sound.

“Huh! To the New Emperor! May the Maker guide his steps.” Dorian brought his glass up and tilted it gently against his lips, sipping at the champagne.

Cullen followed suit, the wine was sweet and tickled his tongue and throat. He sighed and went back to leaning against the railing of the balcony, staring out at the hills some more.

“There’s also some quite delightful wine being served. I wandered every room, trying each kind. And the food! Fascinating.” Dorian stepped closer to Cullen, leaning in against the balcony railing as well. Their shoulders brushed companionably.

“I barely was able to get away here.” Cullen said sullenly, happy that the women were occupied with the dancing, disappointed he hadn’t been able to go around the rest of the palace.

Dorian chuckled and sipped his champagne some more. “I’d heard about your large entourage. I’m surprised you didn’t pick the prettiest one to dance with!”

“None of them interested me.” He said, his eyes glazing over at just the thought of the inane chatter he’d been subjected to all evening. The champagne flute found it’s way to his lips again and Cullen drank the last in one large gulp.

“I do enjoy watching you do that.”

Brown eyes narrowed in a glare and Cullen stood up straight. He stared at the glass in his hand. It was neatly wrought, probably cost more for a case of the beautiful glassware than most of his army made in a month. Twirling the glass in his fingers he watched the lights from the ballroom behind dance along it’s smooth perfect surface. His eyes slipped back to the hillside and the small village far below.

Without thinking, Cullen’s arm was brought back and with a hard heave, the glass spun out into the darkness.

Dorian began to laugh loudly, the sound blending pleasantly with the music in the background. “Bravo!” He said, finishing off his own champagne. “Another?” He held his empty glass out towards Cullen. Who reached over and took the flute, once more admiring the fine, thin glass before chucking it as hard as he could into the darkness of the night.

“That... felt nice.” He said, his hands resting on the railing as he continued to stare out in the space where the two glasses disappeared.

A warm hand covered his own, fingers wrapping around to cup his palm. Cullen looked down, watching as Dorian’s hand encased his own. The fingers squeezed gently, a thumb tracing the fine hairs on the backs of his fingers. Dorian was watching their hands closely, as if enthralled by the dichotomy of pale skin against his own. “I perhaps have had too much wine.” He said, still not daring to look up at Cullen’s face directly. “You know, I saw the Inquisitor and Iron Bull dancing inside.” There was an unvoiced question in the other’s tone. And Cullen knew exactly what the question was.

“Dorian...” He muttered, lifting the other’s hand up. Dorian’s eyes flicked up, hopeful as Cullen stepped away from the railing. “I’m not a good dance partner.” He said, finally. Unable to outright refuse the other man.

Dorian smiled a little sadly at Cullen and nodded, taking his hand back. “More wine then?” He asked, his voice strained with emotion.

Cullen’s eyes searched the other’s face for a moment and he sighed heavily in defeat. People would be talking about this night for ages to come, but hopefully no one was looking at the balcony the two men were standing on. “I get to lead.” Cullen said, his eyes rolling to the side to glance at the doorway, checking to see if there was anyone lingering. “And only one song. Then more wine. I’ll need more wine.”

Dorian’s face split into a grin and he was quick to press close to Cullen, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he did so. His soft hand found Cullen’s own calloused one and Cullen hummed as he assumed the appropriate positioning of their hands, one of his own resting lightly against the mage’s waist. There was a brief moment of confusion as both Dorian and Cullen attempted to lead, but Dorian quickly fell into step, grinning ear to ear as they spun on the balcony.

It was ridiculous and Cullen couldn’t help his own laughter at the moment. He hadn’t danced in years, and stepped on the other’s foot more than once. But Dorian would quickly move, and was graceful as a gazelle as they swept along to the quick tempo of the music.

It was over soon, the dance having started halfway through the musical overture. But Dorian politely pulled away, his face flushed.

“Thank you, Commander! A night to remember for the rest of my life.” He said, breathing a little heavier.

“Yes, well. Wine?” Cullen said, motioning for the interior of the ballroom. Dorian nodded, his grin fading to a wide smile as he readjusted his coat before entering the room.

Cullen followed suit, his face resuming it’s placid visage. The music in the ballroom began again, and Cullen couldn’t help the smile that twitched at the edges of his mouth. At least this friendship was anything but dull.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leading a war effort is not for the faint of heart. And Cullen finds that it's costing him more than just free time to bring the army together

Cullen walked along the battlements. His eyes scanning the distance. He had made it a habit to take at least one guard’s late shift per week. Just because he was the Commander didn’t mean he couldn’t help his subordinates with the menial tasks. And it allowed him to walk when he found it difficult to sleep.

And sleep was becoming quite difficult lately. The new ‘advisor’ sent from the Winter Palace was cryptic and strange. Cullen wasn’t sure he trusted her at all. She seemed familiar, and Leliana was like a cat with it’s hackles raised around the woman. The Spy Master had told Cullen that the woman had traveled with the Hero of Fereldan. She even mentioned that the witch had been there when they’d gone to the Fereldan Circle. Cullen could remember the Hero, a young elven woman from the Dalish that had been googly eye’d over Alistair. He was pretty sure the two had even eloped off after placing Anora on the throne. But he could not remember the raven haired Witch of the Wilds.

The cryptic warnings that the strange woman gave about some old elven ruins in the Arbor Wilds... Cullen knew it was coming. The Storm. The War. It wasn’t going to be on an even playing field, it would be fought in shadows. In trees. It would be fought in skirmishes and along small forested paths. They wouldn’t have the wide open fields that were favorable for forces such as their own. But Cullen was certain they had the training to at least fight in cohesive teams.

He hoped. His boots marched along the walls, back and forth. Back and forth. The moon began to sink along the horizon and Cullen glanced over as his relief came over, nodding to him. He nodded back to the woman, weary as he headed back to his room. Sleep would be welcome, if it came at all. It was getting harder and harder to get his mind to turn off, to stop going over battle plans, examining the maps that he had memorized.

The room was warm and Cullen threw open his windows before removing his overcoat and climbing up the ladder. He splashed some cool, clean water over his face and hair, scrubbing his teeth with a bristled brush. He rinsed his mouth out, staring into the water basin. His tired face stared back, circles dark under his eyes.

The past couple weeks after the Winter Palace had been a blur. It was coming to a head, the whole thing. And he was afraid that with all their preparations, with all the training... It wouldn’t be enough. So Cullen pushed himself. Because there was only one shot at winning. And losing wasn’t an option.

His mind whirled and spun as he kicked off his boots and removed his shirt. He climbed into the bed, leaning over to blow out a candle left lit by a servant after she’d undoubtedly been told to check on him earlier.

Cullen sighed and laid on the bed, one arm thrown behind his head, the other laying over his belly. He closed his eyes to begin the meditations he’d been taught in the Order to calm the mind. Sleep was slow to come. He lay doing breathing exercises, attempting to quiet the pounding of his heart. His heart was so loud, he couldn’t even hear the music from the Veil through the ‘thud, thud, thud’.

It came as a surprise when a cool hand slipped against his belly and the bed creaked when a body slid in close.

Cullen’s eyes shot open and his hand under his head quickly grabbed the arm snaking around his waist, bending a delicate wrist backward and away from his body. Quickly Cullen rolled until he was above the other now whimpering form on the bed.

“You’re going to break my arm.” Dorian cried, his face a grimace of pain as Cullen’s hand tightened on the other’s wrist. 

Cullen blinked in shock, his grip loosening slightly. “Dorian! I... I thought you and the other’s were in Emprise Du Lion...” He said, his heartbeat returning slowly to it’s steady, but loud, rhythm.

“We just got back. Maybe a couple hours ago.” The mage whimpered, bringing his arm to his chest and rubbing at his forearm. The other man’s hair was damp and was not up in it’s normal style. It hung flopped over one eyebrow, and the other man was clearly missing the smudge of dark kohl under his eyes. Not that it changed how big they were, or how dark the lashes that rimmed them.

Cullen caught his breath and flopped back over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in your own bed?” Cullen asked, one hand rubbing at his forehead. “I could have killed you!” He hissed, the adrenaline coursing through his body making his hands shake.

“I... I just... May I... sleep... here?” Dorian asked, stuttering over his words. Cullen looked over at him, brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong with your own bed?”

“Nothing, just...” One of Dorian’s shoulders lifted in a shrug and he looked away from Cullen, looking very young in the pale moonlight as he sat in his oversized linen shirt and pants.

Cullen sighed and sat up a little lifting his arm up so Dorian could come closer. The mage blinked at him and then slid in under his arm, his head coming to rest on Cullen’s chest. One of the mage’s arms slipped under Cullen’s shoulders, and with a little moving around they found a comfortable position for both. Dorian’s other hand rested on Cullen’s chest below Dorian’s chin.

Cullen’s arm tucked under the man’s head plucked at sheets behind the other, his free arm draped along his own belly. They lay in silence for what felt an age. Dorian’s fingers traced circles on Cullen’s shoulder, and the slow brush of his lashes against Cullen’s chest as the Tevinter blinked were enough to lull Cullen into a half-sleepy state.

“Why are you really here?” He mumbled after awhile, his voice rough with his near sleep state.

Dorian was so quiet for a time after Cullen asked, the ex-Templar was certain he had fallen asleep. “I’m afraid.” He finally whispered, as if the words spoken aloud would shatter the tranquil moment.

Cullen hummed thoughtfully. The other’s behavior reminded him of his siblings, crawling into his bed when they had a nightmare or were scolded by their mother. He closed his eyes and let his hand move from the sheets to Dorian’s shoulder, where he patted the other gently. The man smelled of rose water and soap. It made Cullen acutely aware of the fact that he hadn’t bathed in a couple days and most likely smelled of the training circle. In other words: not pleasant. But Dorian didn’t seem to mind, instead the other man just snuggled closer, one of his legs wrapping around Cullen’s own.

Cullen stiffened as the other wrapped himself around Cullen’s body. “It’s hot.” Cullen stated.

“I’ll be gone soon. I just... Need someone for a moment.” The soft whine in Dorian’s voice brought Cullen pause. He wondered what had happened, what could have possibly scared the other man so much that it brought him child like to Cullen’s room for comfort.

Cullen stared at the ceiling, focusing on the small circles the other was making on his shoulder.

“Cullen....” Dorian started, then stopped for a long moment.

“Dorian?”

“That scar... On your shoulder...”

Ah. So it finally came out. Cullen had wondered when and if the other man was going to ask him about it.

“I have others as well.”

Dorian’s head shifted on Cullen’s shoulder, his damp hair brushing against his skin as he moved to look up at him. His chin was sharp as it dug into Cullen’s chest. “Do you hate mages?” He asked, quietly.

Cullen’s eyebrows drew down and the ex-Templar sighed heavily, turning his face away from Dorian’s. “No.” He said, not really feeling the need to have the conversation with the other man.

“I’ve been so selfish, Cullen. And... I’m so sorry. I always take and take and never thought about what it must... why you hate me.”

“Dorian...”

“I thought it was just because I was a Tevinter, that you were just another Southern Templar that hated magisters,”

“Dorian...”

“-because we were the epitome of everything you fought against. And apparently-”

“Dorian...” Cullen huffed angrily and sat up, pushing the other man off him as he did so.

The Tevinter rolled away slightly and lay on his back, staring up at Cullen with wide eyes. Cullen scrubbed at his face with his hands, groaning as his head began to ache with the lack of sleep. He sighed heavily, pushing off the light sheet that covered his legs, swinging himself over the other side of the bed. His feet settled quietly on the ground and Cullen leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

Dorian was quiet behind him. Probably quieter than he’d been in a long time. Finally Cullen lifted his head and looked up at the ceiling in a silent prayer to the Maker for the strength to get through the next few moments.

“What makes you so interested now?” He asked, scratching at the back of his head and neck as he stood up to walk over to the window near by. There was a small chair near it and he sat down, leaning back in the chair, his fingers steepled in front of his face as he watched the other man laying in his bed.

“I-” Dorian hesitated, sitting up right on the bed. His eyes were downcast towards the mussed sheets and he plucked at them gently. “I was speaking with Cassandra.”

Great, Cullen thought. What pleasant stories she must have told him.

“And she... told me about Fereldan.” Dark eyes shot up from the white sheets to look into Cullen’s unmoving face.

“And?” Cullen asked, his eyebrow twitching upwards in irritation.

“I didn’t know!” Dorian wailed, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. “I mean, I’d heard of such horrible things happening... I didn’t know you had... you had...” There was a small hiccup and the mage fell silent, his face turned away from Cullen.

Cullen’s eyes slid shut slowly and one hand rubbed at his forehead. “That was a long time ago.” He muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. He could still smell the viscera and hear the continual screams from his comrades and the innocent mages caught up in the blood mage’s machinations. His heart pounded heavily with the memories. ‘Thud. Thud. Thud.’

“When she told me about it, then Varric said something about... Kirkwall, and we all know what happened at Kirkwall!” Dorian was now on his hands and knees, crawling towards Cullen across the bed. “I’m so sorry! How you must hate us!” He hiss, his face twisted in agony.

Cullen tried to swallow, his throat achingly dry. “I... Don’t.” He ground out. His teeth were clenched tight and his fingernails dug into the hot skin of his forehead.

“Cullen! Please, I think of you as one of my very best friends! I just need to know-”

“Dorian!” Cullen shouted, his face flushed with anger. He glowered at the other, nostrils flared and brow furrowed. The other man sat back on his haunches as if physically hit by Cullen’s outburst. “I am tired! I do not have the energy for this discussion!”

There were tears that sparkled along Dorian’s lower lashes and the other man nodded, his throat reflexively swallowing as he watched the ex-Templar. “I-I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“If you wish to sleep, then so be it!” Cullen barked, standing from the chair as he rubbed his hands through his hair roughly, mussing the blonde curls about. “But do not ask me about these things again. It is... taxing to think about.”

“Of course...” Dorian’s voice was quiet and rough from his emotional outburst. The other reached up and wiped at his eyes, sniffling softly. He laughed thickly. There was no amusement in his eyes as he smiled at Cullen.

Cullen growled and his arms gripped at his head, his hands grabbing at his hair. He paced back and forth, his tired mind not able to stop replaying the screaming. The screaming. The unending screaming. His stomach clenched and churned as another, deeper growl escaped as Cullen lashed out, his fist slamming hard against the stone wall of the room. His felt the skin on his knuckles break with the impact.

It didn’t bring silence.

He lashed out with his other fist. And again. Again. Again. Rage built like a great swelling wave, crashing against his chest with the pounding of his heart. Impossible. Inescapable. If these trials he faced were a test from the Maker then when would he prove himself? When was enough, enough?

And every time he failed. He’d failed again and again. So many lives lost, so many innocents died. Cullen’s chest constricted tightly and fell to his knees, his bloody hands sliding down the wall. A great gasping sob escaped and Cullen pressed his forehead against the cool stone. The anger that had over taken his entire body quickly washed away, like a tide pulling away from the beach. It left him feeling empty.

_She lay there, her body broken and mangled from the Abomination’s attack. Brown eyes wide and dull as they stared away into the nothing. Cullen fell to his knees, his armor clanking as he did so. His hand reached out to touch her cheek gently. He could feel the cold seep through the leather of his glove._

__

__

_Only days before those blue lips had been tinted red and smiling. The eyes bright with laughter. She had laughed so gleefully, so warmly when he gave her the small white wildflower he’d found outside the tower._

__

__

_‘Cullen! My devoted knight!’ She cried, her voice angelic._

__

__

_Cullen cupped the cold, stiff cheek. Brown hair matted with blood stuck to her forehead and neck. The thin mage’s robe she’d worn had done nothing to stop the monster’s vicious attack. She was nearly torn in two. A keening wail filled the hall. It couldn’t be Cullen’s...._

Teeth grit together and Cullen’s fingers gripped at the rough stone, bringing himself back from the memories. His shoulder throbbed with it’s own memory.

“C-Cullen...” Dorian called.

Cullen sat back, drawing his legs to his chest. Tears threatened to spill but he wouldn’t allow them to. The bed creaked as Dorian slipped off the edge and came near to the other man.

“Leave me be.” Cullen croaked, turning his face away from Dorian.

The mage’s hand twitched in the air just about Cullen’s shoulder, inches from touching him. “I’m sorry.”

Nothing could be said. He was so tired that the anger and sorrow and memories were close to the surface. He waited for a breath but when Dorian continued to hover, Cullen felt his rage spike again.

“I said to leave!” He shouted, not able to look the other in the face.

He heard a soft gurgle as if Dorian was fighting any words that wished to come out. But the mage merely stood up and walked away, looking as a ghost in his white linen sleeping outfit.

Cullen listened to the sound of Dorian heading down the ladder. Sadness panged his heart but he didn’t call out to the other man. He needed to be alone.

The Veil’s song was soft, and Cullen found a strange comfort it’s sound as he wrapped his arms around knees tucked against his chest. Tears came unbidden and fell hot and plentiful.

_’With you, I feel safe. Always.’_


	9. For Everything a Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian has some revelations. And so does Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So I had posted this chapter... and then I thought and hemmed and hawed and just... Well, it's a little change at end.
> 
> I mean it's not little, its big. But it's little. So anyone who had read it, just know there's a little change there. Sorry!

The great table was littered with papers and troop pieces, quills and ink pots. The map was stained on the corner where Cullen had accidentally spilled his tea earlier. His hands moved some of the lion heads around the neatly scrawled words ‘Arbor Wilds’. Leliana’s crow pieces were scattered around, some near passes that lead through the Emerald Graves and surrounding areas. They were pincering Corypheus into the area around the temple that the witch claimed the blighted magister was after.

They would be leaving in force soon. The army was pulling together the resources they’d need on the march and to set up for a possible siege of the temple. There was very little known of the great temple in the Arbor Wilds. It was said to have been of great importance to the ancient elves.

Solas was oddly quiet about the subject, not able to (or unwilling to) give much in the way of what to expect at the ancient ruins.

Cullen sighed heavily and picked up his cold tea cup, sipping at the bitter liquid. He continued to eye the table, glancing every now and then at the papers scattered around with the numbers of troops promised from Emperor Gaspard. They were an even match with Corypheus. As long as the troops promised were able to make it to the wilds in time.

There was a knock on the door to the chamber and Cullen glanced up. “Enter.” He called, setting his empty tea cup to the side.

The door creaked slowly open, and Dorian’s face peeked around the large door.

“Ah... Um... I’m sorry... I was told the Inquisitor was in here...” He said, pushing in further to glance around the large room. As if the woman were hiding in a corner waiting to jump out and scare the next to enter.

Although, her recent shenanigans with Sera... perhaps not a completely unreasonable thought.

Cullen stared at Dorian stone faced. “She isn’t here.” He said, his fingers still aching from his burst of rage the other night.

“Ah... Josephine said she might be, but I can see... that she isn’t. Do you...” Dorian smiled at Cullen and waved his hand full of papers in front of his face, as if the idea was entirely too ridiculous. “Never mind, I’ll find her.” He said, turning around to head out of the room.

Cullen looked down again at the table, his heart thrumming with shame. He had not spoken to Dorian in almost a week, but the mage had been lingering in his periphery for days. Neither had had the courage to speak about what had happened. And Cullen was far too busy to be finding the other and apologizing for his outburst. There was a war to win, after all. But as the door closed Cullen glanced up.

“I’m sorry.” He called out.

The door stopped it’s slow scratching close. For a moment Cullen thought he’d been too slow with his apology, that the mage was already prancing down the hallway to find Trevelyan. But long tan fingers slipped around the edge of the door and the door opened a fraction, Dorian peeking around again.

They were silent, both staring at each other from opposite sides of the room. Cullen’s heart pounded as he waited for Dorian’s answer. He was ashamed at his display. He didn’t usually give into his anger. He’d learned many ways of controlling it, after the time in Kinloch Hold. He’d spent far too many days and nights that had melted into years, angry. And it shamed him when he allowed the emotion to have it’s way with him.

Dorian pushed a little further into the room, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips nervously. “You have nothing to apologize for.... I should be the one...”

Cullen made an irritated sound and turned around to look out the windows behind him. He walked over so he could peer down into the gardens below. He could see the Inquisitor’s red hair and Morrigan’s own raven black standing together. Cullen’s fingers wrapped around his sword as he watched the two women speaking.

“Do... you still hear it?” Dorian asked from behind Cullen. The blonde looked back over his shoulder. Dorian had moved inside the room, standing on the opposite side of the table.

“The music?”

“Yes.”

Cullen nodded as he turned away from the window and towards the table again. He picked up the papers of troop numbers, shuffling them a bit before setting them down on his other side.

“I’ve been thinking.... About it... All of it.” Dorian’s fingers were fussing with the small patch of hair on his chin under his lip. “I believe... I may have a very good idea of why you and I can hear it. But no one else seems to have any inkling at all.”

Cullen nodded, halfway listening to the other’s rambling. He picked up another lion statue from the edge of the table and moved to slide it towards the Exalted Plains. Even if Empress Celine was gone, they could still count her troops. And they were only a few days march from the temple... He’d have to send out a raven. And quickly.

“I think because we’ve been subjected to the horrors of blood magic, and have lived to tell about it, that is why-”

Cullen grabbed a piece of paper and a quill, dipping it into the nearest ink pot to begin writing his missive to the late Empress’ armies. And maybe one to that Dalish clan the Inquisitor had met... they might have information about the temple or at least the surrounding area that could prove useful.

Dorian cleared his throat loudly.

“I’m busy.” Cullen said, the quill scratching quietly in the room. His fingers were stained black with all the writing he’d been doing the past couple of weeks.

“This could be an important revelation. It was actually part of why I wanted to speak with the Inquisitor.”

Cullen finished writing his sentence and then set the quill down, standing up straight and looking Dorian in the eye. “Surely there are far more studious minds than mine that would be better suited to this puzzle.”

“But I thought you liked puzzles.” Dorian drawled, stepping closer, his eyes sweeping along the table top, taking in the great map.

He did. Cullen did enjoy puzzles and games. But when he had bigger things to think about they were honestly the last things on his mind.

But the memory of Dorian’s tear filled eyes hovered in the background and Cullen’s jaw clenched as he remembered his outburst of anger and rage unfairly turned towards the mage.

“I suppose I could take a small break.” He said. “Then would not blood mages also be hearing this music?”

Dorian laughed sharply. “I would ask a blood mage, if I knew one.”

Cullen stared.

“I don’t mingle with blood mages! Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of silk?” He cried, arms thrown in the air in exasperation. “I... sent a missive to some colleagues in Tevinter. They said they had not heard of anyone that openly practiced mentioning music.” Dorian shrugged.

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest and watched Dorian closely. The mage reached out to pick up one of the iron Inquisition pieces from the map. Cullen’s tongue traced the edges of his teeth in mild irritation. “Well... Then if blood mages don’t hear it, why would we?” He asked.

The piece was set down and Dorian looked up at Cullen, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He set the stack of papers he’d been carrying down on the table, spreading them out onto the tabletop.

Cullen hissed angrily as a lion, three ravens, and two Inquisition sword pieces fell over. Dorian seemed oblivious and pointed at the papers.

“I have an idea that it’s something to do with the magic we had cast upon us. We know there’s an intrinsic connection to the Fade when magic is cast, but that connection is even stronger with blood magic! Perhaps, and I’m only going on a hunch here, something about that...” Dorian’s face scrunched as he looked for a word he needed. “ _Extra_ is causing us to hear it. Maybe, just maybe, a part of the fade is inside us!”

Cullen scratched at the side of his face, the soft scruff, scruff sound of nails on stubble. “Isn’t that what magic is? Wouldn’t then all mages hear it?”

Dorian frowned and shook his head. “No. No, I mean, yes. But no. It’s.... not the same. We can draw upon the fade. Pull from it. But it’s... Different. And besides, no other mages have told me they can hear it. And you are clearly not a mage.” Dorian’s hand waved over Cullen’s form.

“I have taken lyrium though. Templars have the ability to cast, of a sort, magic.”

“But you aren’t taking it anymore. And, from what little I can get from the other templars here, they also are not hearing anything. In fact, a couple threatened to have me made tranquil when I asked them.” Dorian pouted. “Which I thought was quite rude.” He muttered.

Cullen couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I wouldn’t allow it.” He assured the other, even as he reached forward to pick up the lion and set it gently next to the papers the other had laid out.

Dorian smiled softly back at Cullen. “I know... Anyway, this is all obviously just a hunch, an idea. Until we can gather more information, do tests, find others who perhaps have undergone blood magic rituals...” Dorian fell quiet and stared down at the papers, his fingers plucking at the corners of them.

Cullen waited, watching as the man seemed to mull over something in his head.

“I wasn’t very coherent the other night...” He started, his cheeks turning a bright pink under his tanned skin. “And... I... After Cassandra told me about... Everything...” Dorian cleared his throat as he picked up the papers, gathering them together before reaching down and resetting the pieces he’d knocked over. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry that happened to you. And if you ever just need a friend, or anything else, I am here.” Dark grey eyes flicked up to look into Cullen’s brown eyes. They held their gaze for a long, silent moment.

Cullen broke the gaze first, looking down at the table. “I reacted harshly. I’ve been working very hard, and was tired. I hope you can forgive me.”

There was movement from across the table but Cullen continued to pick up the fallen pieces, moving them back to where they were before. He had to reach across the table to slide two of the ravens back to their proper places. Cullen looked up as Dorian quickly began to walk around the table to come and stand at his side.

They once more locked gazes, quiet and pensive. It was broken as Dorian’s arms slid around Cullen’s waist, sliding around his plated armor and pulling the ex-Templar close to him. He tucked his head, pressing his cheek against the cool metal plate of Cullen’s chest piece.

Cullen stood shocked for a moment, his eyes wide as he looked down at the man pressing against him. The faint smell of roses from his hair was pleasant and Cullen found his fingers gently stroking against the back of the other’s head before he returned the hug.

Dorian was the first to pull away. He smiled at Cullen and his hand reached up to pat Cullen on the cheek, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. But Cullen didn’t move, instead keeping his eyes on the other’s face, watching as Dorian’s own flicked to the scar on his lip. Cullen waited with held breath for the man to touch the scar, to feel the soft finger press against his lip.

But Dorian just pulled away, the smile on his face belied by the sad look in his eye. “Well, think about what I’ve said. Maybe you’ll be able to come up with something I never thought of. With your quaint Southerner’s way of thinking, who knows what directions your mind will go.”

Cullen rolled his eyes and rubbed at his neck. “The Inquisitor is in the gardens, speaking with the witch.” He said, turning back to the table and continuing to replace the pieces that had gotten shifted around.

“Perfect!” Dorian gathered up his papers and was out the door of the chambers before Cullen could even muster the breath to wish him good bye.

A small smile spread across Cullen’s face and he watched the door for a moment, mind wandering to what Dorian had said. Perhaps that was the connection. It had seemed odd that he, an ex-Templar no longer taking lyrium, and Dorian, a Tevinter mage that did not dabble in blood magic, were hearing music that no one else seemed to have any clue about.

Of course, as Dorian had mentioned, if the other mages there were hearing the music they would be sure to not mention it out loud. It was a quick way to be made tranquil. Although the Inquisitor had strictly forbidden the practice, it was known that the threat was still very real.

Cullen picked up his quill once more, dabbing it into the ink and returning to his letters.

The feast was a rambunctious one. Everyone was gathered into the great hall of the keep. There was food lining every table, wine and ale flowing freely. The Inquisitor had given a very powerful speech about freedom, and fighting for the well being of all the Maker’s children. It was honestly a beautiful speech, she’d quoted the Canticles and was wearing a stunning white robe that was very similar to the ones Andraste was wearing in her painted depictions.

A last meal before they started the trek out to the Arbor Wilds the day after tomorrow. Everything was ready, even if half the soldiers ended up incapable of work for a day because of a hang over. Trevelyan had been adamant about hosting the leaving feast. Everyone’s nerves had been on edge and she had been quite astute in her observation that when people are stressed, they don’t do a very good job at work.

There would be plenty of time to mull over the end of the world as they marched their way out to meet Corypheus.

Cullen picked at the last bit of meat on the large leg bone of some unnamed fowl. His stomach was comfortably full with meat and potatoes and ale. He sat slumped sideways in his chair, tossing bits of meat around his plate. His other hand held a goblet of wine and he sipped at it as his eyes scanned the room. People were talking and laughing, joking. Some of the younger soldiers were being overly rowdy. But the older soldiers and Templars gave them a wide berth, instead choosing to chat amongst themselves.

Plenty of people would come by and speak with Cullen, occasional inane chatter. It was pleasant and Cullen enjoyed the simple evening. It had been far too long since there’d been a night where he hadn’t had to think about anything but his next sip of wine.

Not since the last time he’d had a drink with the Inquisitor and the others. And that had been months before. Or what felt like months. Perhaps only a couple of them. Or one. Cullen snorted a laugh, lifting his wine glass up as he tried to hide the fact that he was laughing at his own musing. Apparently lack of sleep exacerbated the effects of alcohol.

Cullen hummed happily, sipping again at the wine. He was doing his best to not think about anything to do with two days from this point. And if meant getting a little drunk then so be it.

“Drinking again! I am a good influence.” Dorian sashayed over, his own wine cup clutched in his hand. He grinned down at Cullen as he stopped to lean against the table top.

Cullen rolled his eyes and sipped his wine. “I learned my lesson that night. One ale, and one wine.” He sliced his hand through the air like a knife. “Done.”

“Mmhmm.” Dorian’s head was tilted at a sly angle and he was watching the other through his lashes. Those ridiculously long lashes.

Cullen reached up and rubbed at his chest where the memory of their gentle brush lingered. Taking a deep breath he moved and sat up straight in his chair, waving a hand towards the chair next to him as invitation to the other man.

“I think I will sit!”

Cullen was lifting his cup up to take another taste of his wine when a rather well formed buttocks plopped itself down directly into his lap. The shock caused him to spill wine on his chin and chest, the liquid dripping down his shined plated coat front. “Arg!” He growled, wiping at the red liquid. “Ger’off me!” He said, giving up on the spill and pushing half heartedly at the surprisingly heavy body.

Dorian sat sideways on his lap and grinned broadly, a self satisfied chuckle filtering past his lips. He sipped at his own wine glass, rocking back and forth as Cullen pushed at him.

Finally Cullen gave up, slumping back in his chair with defeated sigh. “Why must you constantly irritate me?” He whined, holding his cup out towards a nearby servant that giggled at the two men as she topped off the wine.

“Ah! I thought you said only one glass of wine!”

“You made me spill it!” Cullen motioned towards his now damp coat collar and sleeve.

“I didn’t make you do anything, you did it to yourself.” Dorian pouted and sipped at his wine some more.

Cullen’s head fell back, his eyes traveling to look up at the ceiling. Maker give him the strength.

“What an adorable couple.” A voice purred from behind, causing Cullen to jump, once more splashing wine on his hand.

“See! It’s all your own fault!” Dorian pointed at the wine staining Cullen’s hand. The mage shifted slightly on Cullen’s legs and smiled at the person behind the chair. They were out of Cullen’s view but from the voice he figured it sounded like Leliana.

“This isn’t what it looks like! I’ve been usurped.” Cullen stated, trying his best to look over his shoulder at the red head behind him.

“Yes, it was a hard fought battle, but I have won ground for the Tevinter Magisterium!”

Leliana giggled softly and walked around the chair into Cullen’s view. She smiled down at him, her hair free from the usual purple hood that covered it. Her hand lifted up to brush along Cullen’s brow, pushing a stray strand of hair back in a surprisingly sweet gesture. He blinked up at her in confusion. Leliana was a kind woman, but she was known to be hard as iron. “I only came by to say good night.”

“So early? The sun has barely even gone away.” Dorian motioned towards the open doorway, where the night sky sparkled.

“The sun has been down for hours now, Master Pavus. And I have work to attend to in the morning.” She said, her face once more unsmiling. “As I believe our Commander here does as well.”

Cullen grunted in agreement. “Yes. I will retire soon as well.”

“Good. You are looking very tired of late.” Leliana’s hand touched his shoulder gently. “You must be sure to take care of yourself.” There was a faint hint of worry in her lilting accent and Cullen could only nod at her.

“Of course.”

Dorian was watching the exchange between the two quietly, sipping at his wine every now and then. He smiled as Leliana nodded to him and left the area.

“She frightens me.” He said, his grey eyes watching the Spy Master leave to her quarters.

“She should.” Cullen noted, sipping at his wine again. He grunted and pushed at Dorian’s thigh as he shifted slightly. “You’re much heavier than you look.” He said.

Dorian looked back at Cullen and gasped. “I am not! I am perfectly proportioned.” He said, making a soft harumphing sound.

“People are talking.” Cullen stated, shifting his legs some more, trying to wiggle Dorian off the ends of his knees. But the mage was surprisingly difficult to dislodge.

“People always talk. They talk and talk, and yet never say a word.” Dorian was swaying slightly with Cullen’s leg wiggles, but he seemed unconcerned as he drank more from his wine glass. The ex-Templar gave up after a minute, groaning loudly as his head fell back. “Just let it happen.” Dorian said, shifting a bit so that he was closer to Cullen’s torso. His arm lifted and his elbow settled on Cullen’s shoulder, head resting in his hand.

“I am not a chair! I am the Commander of the Inquis-”

“Yes, yes. And a very comfortable seat.” Dorian glanced at Cullen from the corner of his eye, a smirk on his lips.

“Ha.” Cullen looked back out at the crowd gathered around. Some were tittering at the two, but most did not even seem to notice. He took a large drink from his wine glass and then look down at it. The pewter goblet had etchings of a past battle. He was sure it was an old Inquisition battle, but it could honestly have been anything. There had been a whole case of the goblets found in the kitchens and shined back to glory after the years and years they’d been hidden away. Some of the little details, however, had been worn away over time.

A hand was brushed gently through his hair and Cullen twitched away from the touch, glowering up at Dorian. The man had a soft look on his face. It was... unnerving.

“So sour looking. As if you’ve just eaten a pickled plum.” Dorian laughed softly and went back to sipping his wine. His fingers once more threaded through Cullen’s hair.

“Why do you do this to me?” Cullen asked, lifting his hand to wave at the other’s fingers are if they were bothersome flies.

“You don’t know? I’m surprised. Although with all that armor...”

Cullen glanced at Dorian irritated.

“I enjoy your company. You grumpy, old goat.”

“I don’t quite understand why.” Cullen leaned his head back against the chair, once more returning to people watching. Dorian’s weight was shifted to his upper thigh and was not uncomfortable any longer. Some of the older soldiers were filtering out of the hall to head back to the barracks. The younger ones were still chattering away in groups. “I think I might retire.” Cullen said, his eyes heavy. He set his wine cup down and sat up, using his full strength to push Dorian off of him.

The mage stumbled to a stand and wrapped his arms around his chest as he watched Cullen stand up. “I am not tired. Would you mind if I spent... some time with you?”

“How brazen.” Cullen answered, reaching down to grab his sword that was leaning against the side of the table. He was wrapping the sword around his waist when he looked up into Dorian’s face. The other had a serious expression, clearly waiting for a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. “I don’t mind. But I am not going to engage in any ridiculous conversations.” He said. He gave Dorian a quick glance over and then turned away, shaking his head in confusion.

Cullen turned and headed towards Solas’ mural room, walking past the great burning fireplace where Varric and Sera were chatting. As he past, they both fell silent. A giant smirk was on the dwarf’s face and the grin that stretched Sera’s own was close to feral. Cullen gave them a questioning glance, one eyebrow raised.

He turned into the room, glancing around the painted walls. It was very beautiful. Solas truly had a talent.

The night was quiet, the guard complement menial. Cullen paused as he walked out to the walkway, glancing at the sky, head turned towards the green mar in the distance. He could hear the music very faintly. It was almost drowned out by the sounds of the soldiers still in the great hall. Dorian slipped out the door behind him and stopped, watching Cullen as he listened to the Veil.

Cullen looked over his shoulder at Dorian and then continued along the walkway towards his tower. The mage was following in his wake, silent as they walked along in the brisk night air. As he opened the door to the tower, he held it open for Dorian. Who slipped inside as if he owned the place.

Dorian was climbing up while Cullen removed his sword and coat. Cullen followed up after the other man, wondering how much it would take to have stairs put in. As he came to the top of the ladder, he glanced over at Dorian who was removing his shirt.

“Are you planning on staying?” Cullen asked, a little taken aback. 

“Yes.” Dorian said, kicking off his boots.

Cogs whirled and turned in his head and Cullen frowned as he continued to stand next to the ladder of the room, suddenly feeling a little unsteady. Dorian looked over at him, a smirk beginning to stretch his lips.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my pants on.” He set his shirt neatly on top of a nearby chair and then climbed into the bed. “Your bed is so much nicer than mine. I’m surprised really. I would have thought you’d sleep on wooden boards. To be closer to Andraste, or whatever.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed at the other man as he walked over and removed his own boots, setting them neatly by the chair Dorian had placed his shirt on. Cullen’s fingers played with his undershirt, debating taking it off before deciding against it. He moved and walked around the bed, sitting primly on the edge.

“Don’t be a prude. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.” Dorian was grinning at Cullen in amusement and the blonde man huffed in irritation.

“How much wine did you consume tonight?” He asked moving to lay back against the headboard of the bed.

“Enough. If it’s free, why not?” Dorian shrugged, his bottom lip poking out as he took a thoughtful expression. “Are you going to sleep fully clothed, in this heat?” Dorian asked. The room was quite warm, as the windows had been closed due to a chilly rain the night before. But the day itself had been warm and humid.

“Should I open a window?” Cullen asked, moving to stand back up again. Now that he was in the room with Dorian he felt a strange nervousness.

Dorian laughed and shook his head. “Only if you are uncomfortable. I come from a much warmer climate. This is a tolerable warmth for me.” Dorian waved a hand lazily. “But I know you Fereldan’s are used to freezing regularly.”

Cullen frowned and settled back again. He sighed and let his eyes close, his head falling back to rest against the headboard behind him.

“Sleeping sitting up?” Dorian asked. Cullen could feel him shifting about on the bed and his eye cracked open to look at him.

“I’m meditating.” He said, wishing suddenly that he hadn’t invited the other to come back with him. He watched as Dorian fluffed a pillow and then fell back to lay flat on his back. The pillow tucked beneath his head.

Dorian glanced over and Cullen closed his barely cracked eye again, focusing on his breathing. It wasn’t taking much to bring his mind to a place of emptiness. The alcohol, revelry, and warmth in the air made him almost instantly drowsy. After two more deep breaths, Cullen lowered himself down to lay on his back, his hands shifting the pillow behind his head to a comfortable position.

It was blessedly silent, except for the music of course. But that had become a faded background noise to Cullen.

“I’ve never been to war. Well, Adamant. But was that war? It seemed more like a brief detour, really.” Dorian said after a few minutes of the quiet.

“Do you ever not talk?” Cullen asked, trying his best to keep his breathing steady and even.

“Plenty. You just make such a good sounding board. Have you been to war?”

“I... have fought in battles.”

“Well, I suppose we all have.” The bed creaked as Dorian rolled over on his side, lifted up on his elbow to look at Cullen. “But... everyone seems to be treating this one as... different. Like it’s a different kind of battle.”

Cullen groaned and opened his eyes to look at Dorian as he hovered over him. “It’s war. We’ve been at war this whole time. Only now, we have to face the true enemy, one on one. Our forces against his. That’s what is different. This will decide the victor. This is the deciding _battle_ of this war.”

Dorian stared down at Cullen. He could practically see the wheels turning behind the grey eyes. “Do you think he’ll be there?” He asked, his voice a bare whisper.

“Yes.” Cullen answered.

Dorian nodded and looked away from Cullen, his hands grabbing at the sheets fretfully.

Cullen grunted and reached down to grab a coin from his pant pocket. It’s worn surface and chipped edges a familiar feel in his fingers. He held it out to the other man. “Here.”

Dorian blinked owlishly at the coin. He didn’t take it, but one of his long fingers reached up to touch the edge of it, stroking it. “Is it enchanted?”

Cullen chuckled. “No. My brother gave it to me, before I left for the Templars. It was the only thing I had when I entered the order. He gave it to me for luck.”

The Tevinter looked down at Cullen, his lips parted in surprise at the confession.

“Take it. I know you will be with the Inquisitor and... You will need far more luck than I.”

Dorian’s finger slid over the ridge of the coin and he took it from Cullen’s fingers. The mage looked at the coin as if it were the most amazing thing he’d ever seen, rather than a small chantry coin from a humble village in Fereldan.

Cullen sighed and reached up to fluff his pillow again before settling down a little further, his eyes closing in contentment. He felt the onset of sleep once more and was relaxing into it when Dorian slid close to him, so close Cullen could feel the warmth from the other’s breath brush against his cheek. He tensed a bit, waiting.

“Thank you. Cullen.” Dorian whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. There was a pause that lingered, warm in air. Cullen swallowed nervously with what was left unsaid, that thickened the atmosphere. The bed moved slightly as Dorian shifted, and brown eyes opened to look up at the darker skinned man that now hovered over him completely.

“It’s just a trinket.” Cullen said, his voice crackling with trepidation.

They both waited, eyes locked, the mage poised on his elbows above the templar.

Dorian’s lip trembled and his eyes broke their stare to look down at the blonde’s thinner, scarred pair. A pink tongue appeared, wetting Dorian’s lips. “I believe I’ve wandered into dangerous water. And yet I am loathe to swim back to shore.”

“Poetic.” Cullen said, his voice breathy with the tension.

It was a strange feeling as Dorian’s face tilted closer. Breath puffed against his mouth, wet and warm. But the lips didn’t touch. They hovered just above, as if waiting for the distance to be closed. Cullen’s hands gripped at the sheets below him. He was torn. Part of him wanted to, part of him was still so unsure. The last time he’d cared for a mage, for anyone really, it had ended... Poorly. His lips moved slightly as words formed, but fell silent before they could be voiced.

Cullen’s hand was reaching up to push against the other’s shoulder when Dorian finished closing the gap. The kiss was tentative, warm. His lips were damp and the rough brush of his mustache against Cullen’s upper lip was a strange sensation, one that Cullen wasn’t entirely sure he disliked. It was a soft kiss, exploratory. Dorian’s lips moved experimentally against his and Cullen allowed his own to open just slightly, pursing softly against the other’s mouth. His hand found it’s way to Dorian’s shoulder, where his fingers gripped at the smooth skin stretched over strong muscles.

He pushed the other back a bit, his breath coming in shaking gasps. Dorian’s eyes opened and looked down into Cullen’s own. They were dark and hooded with desire.

When he didn’t say anything Dorian pulled away a little further, his arms settling on either side of Cullen’s head. His eyes searched the ex-Templar’s face, wandering in search of answers to his unasked questions.

“No?” The mage finally asked, his voice roughened with lust.

“I c-can’t.” He finally stuttered out, his breath coming in raspy gasps.

Dorian pulled away slowly, that sad countenance on his face again. He always was so sad when he entered this room. But he came back, again and again. And the reason why was clear as day to Cullen now. He could see it, could feel it. He’d been so blind.

“Why?” He finally asked as Dorian moved away to sit on the edge of the bed. “Why do you care for me? I am broken, Dorian.”

“You’re perfect.” Dorian whispered. He stood up. “I hope this doesn’t change... Us.”

Cullen watched as the man moved to go to his shirt from the nearby chair. Dorian’s movements were slow and but smooth as he picked up his shirt, shaking it out. Cullen moved to sit up, resting his arms on his tented knees.

“You remind me of her.” He whispered, eyeing the other’s smooth, well muscled back. “I mean... some of the things you do. The way you laugh... She was always laughing...”

Dorian paused in putting on his shirt, glancing over his shoulder at Cullen. He didn’t move, every muscle in the mage was tense as he waited quietly for Cullen to continue.

“I...” Cullen shifted a bit on the bed and turned his head from Dorian. “I loved her.” He whispered. “And when she died... She was... so young... And I... was powerless to stop it. I couldn’t save her.”

Dorian turned and looked at Cullen, his shirt dropped back to the chair. He remained quiet and still, watching Cullen intently.

Cullen scratched at the back of his head and chewed on his lower lip nervously. “I’m sorry, Dorian...” His brown eyes flicked back to glance at the other’s passive face before quickly looking back away. “You... don’t... have to leave.” His heart jumped with the confession. He hadn’t spoken of her in so long. But the memories that had haunted him since the night earlier that week had broken the scarred wound open. It was festered and needed to be cleaned out. Perhaps Dorian was the one to do so. Maybe the mage was sent not only to assist the Inquisition. Maybe he was sent to help Cullen as well.

Or maybe Cullen was just lonely.

Dorian was hovering at the chair, clearly unsure of what to do. Neither man moved or said anything for what seemed an eternity. Finally Dorian moved and came back to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, staring at the floorboards. “I didn’t know.”

Cullen snorted derisively. “How could you? I don’t even think Cassandra or Leliana know. She was... a charge of mine. Fraternization was... _is_ forbidden in the order, after all.”

“She must have been beautiful, to catch your eye.”

Cullen hummed happily, thinking back to the time when he first met Lorynne. Her bright smile and sparkling eyes. He was freshly out of training, his first posting. And she had been a breath of fresh air after the years of rigid schooling. “She was... She was full of life. Even inside the Circle.” With a large, heavy sigh Cullen fell back to lay on the bed again, staring at the ceiling.

Dorian continued to sit on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his pant legs.

“Are you staying or going? I am tired, and should at least try to get some sleep.”

The other man was quiet, continuing to fuss about, not looking at Cullen. “I should probably go. For my own sake, if nothing else.”

“I’m sorry, Dorian.”

“Don’t be. I’m used to rejection.” He said, standing up and turning his head to smile at Cullen.

“It’s not... rejection, it’s just... I need time.”

“Yes. Time. We have all the time in the world.” The man went back and pulled his shirt on fully, smoothing it down. He pulled his boots on, Cullen watching him regretfully. Dorian turned and looked at the ex-Templar, his eyes searching the other man’s face.

There was a creak on the floorboards before Dorian crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees, moving close to Cullen. His lips pressed firmly against Cullen’s forehead, soft and warm. The kiss lingered, cool fingers brushing against Cullen’s stubbled cheek. He pulled away, looking Cullen in the eyes as he did so, his fingers caressing the stubbled jaw line.

After a time of silence, Dorian shifted and moved away, heading towards the way out. He paused at the ladder, glancing over his shoulder at Cullen.

“She was lucky to have known you.” Dorian muttered quietly before slipping down the ladder.

_I love you._ Dorian thought as he walked out of the tower and headed back to his own quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do it, I had to have the smooches.
> 
> And I know Dorian always leaves, I'm sorry. It just... He just... I mean... don't worry, hopefully there'll be canoodles. Well, not CANOODLES, I think this story isn't going to go past teen, because... well... maybe it will... now I'm rambling... hmm :/


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They march out for War. But not all of them return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little different, since it takes place from Dorian's perspective. This particular chapter has been bashing around my head the past few days, I had to get it out.

They set out from SkyHold early two days later. The sun was just breaching the horizon as Dorian passed underneath the great gates of the keep, the solid march, march, march of the army behind him. Cullen, Leliana, and the Inquisitor were ahead of the great marching horde of people, animals, and wagons of supplies. It would take them near a week to reach the Arbor Wilds. Dorian was glad he was one of the few that had his own mount. Most of the poor sods were on foot, hoofing their own gear on their backs.

The days passed without much to note, except for the change in scenery and climate. As they began their way wending through the Emerald Graves, more joined their ranks from Fairbank’s guerilla fighters. Soon they swelled until the train of people itself was over a mile long. They made sure the wagons of food and medical supplies were safely placed in the middle of the great caravan of people, in case of attack it could be easily guarded.

Cullen rarely spent time near the front of the march with the Inquisitor or her ilk. He was constantly moving along the ranks, shouting orders, ensuring that the pace remained steady. Leliana still received and sent ravens. The birds flying out in all directions every time of day.

Dorian was walking next to his horse, when Cullen came riding up on his great roan war steed. The horse tossed it’s magnificent head as he pulled up sharply next to the Inquisitor on her own Fereldan Forder.

“I’ve heard word that there’s a pass a day’s ride ahead. It’ll be tight.” He told the dark red haired woman.

Trevelyan’s eyes narrowed, her thin face passive as she stared ahead of them along the already too small road.

“Not good, boss.” Iron Bull stated. “How tight is tight?” He asked, his great horned head turning to look at Cullen.

The blonde man rubbed at his stubbled chin in thought and Dorian watched, feeling a sudden pang of anxiety. “I think the scouts said it’ll be three men wide at it’s tightest point.

“Good ambush spot.” Iron Bull noted.

“Is there no way around?” The Inquisitor asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

“It would add two days to our march. And we’re already behind.” Cullen said. “I will ride with the wagons, along with a compliment of our best soldiers. But... We should be ready for any signs of ambush.” Cullen’s horse tossed it’s large head as if in agreement, and the Commander urged it to a trot, heading back along the line of marching men.

Dorian bit his lower lip, concern clear on his face. “I should ride with them. I can shield-”

“No.” The Inquisitor barked.

“But-”

“Do not argue with me! We have enough mages there to protect the wagons.” The Inquisitor’s sharp tone stopped Dorian from arguing the point further.

That night was a long one, most of the men and women milled about far past the time they usually would have fallen asleep. Everyone was nervous about the pass. Leliana’s scouts returned with news that the surrounding area was clear of Venatori, none had been seen within miles of the road ahead. Dorian had searched the campgrounds looking for Cullen but he couldn’t find the Commander’s tent. Eventually he gave up, returning to his tent amongst the Inner Circle’s and falling into a fretful sleep.

The next morning the camp was awake and moving again by sun up. Dorian yawned widely and finished the bowl of gruel in his hands. He looked up as Cullen came by, his horse following obediently behind him.

“Good morning.” Dorian said softly, handing his empty bowl to one of the kitchen servants that had come along with them on the march.

“Good morning.” Cullen said, taking an offered bowl of gruel and a luke warm cup of tea. The man began eating it quickly. Every day they’d been on the road, Cullen had been the first to rise but the last to eat. He never made the other men put his tent up or take it down. He took care of his own horse. The men showed respect to him for it. It was clear they would ride behind Cullen even into death. Dorian watched the Commander as he quickly scooped the last bite of gruel into his mouth and chugged the cold tea, handing the bowl and cup back to the servant who quickly washed them and put them back into the wagon.

Cullen turned to look at him, his eyes searching the other’s face. “You ride with the Inquisitor.” He said, more a statement than a question.

“Of course. She would have a hard time of it without my devilishly good looks and charm.”

Cullen’s lips quirked upwards on one side. “Keep your eyes open today. There haven’t been any sightings of the enemy, and it’s entirely possible they’ve been pushed back from the area...”

Dorian felt his chest constrict painfully. “Be careful.” He said, reaching into his pocket where he kept the small coin that the other man had given him. His fingers gently caressed the smooth surface as he watched Cullen mount his steed.

“You as well.” The blonde said, before spurring his horse into a quick walk. “Let’s go! The day waits for no one!” He shouted, his voice carrying through the camp. Soldiers quickly formed a marching line and the entirety of the army was moving again within the next half hour.

Dorian patted his white mare’s neck, the horse’s ears flicking back and forth at the sounds of bird song amongst the trees. The trees were beginning to close in around them, large and looming. Some of the roots were so large that the troops had to go around them, winding through the forest following an old overgrown stone road that had been marked with colorful flags by scouts ahead of them. The air was thick under the tree tops.

Solas would stop every now and then, getting off of his great elk to gather roots and herbs along the pathway. ‘For later study,’ he’d told Dorian when asked what he was going to do with the plants.

Iron Bull and the Inquisitor rode ahead of everyone speaking quietly together, a standard bearer after them. The Inquisition flag flew high, leading the ranks of men through the unknown forest. There were occasional ruins in the distance, great tumbling towers. Dorian wondered if they were of elven make or old Tevinter. Without being able to get closer it was impossible to tell in their decrepit state at a distance.

They came upon the pass the scouts had warned about. Dorian looked about. There were hills that began to swell from the earth, rising in height along the pathway. The road was cut along between the hills, but the trees made it nearly impossible to walk anywhere other than the road way.

The Inquisitor turned on her horse, looking behind her at the steady stream of people. Her and Iron Bull rode side by side, passing underneath a giant arching tree root. It was nearly a tunnel itself, it’s width enough to cast a long shadow over the men and women as they slipped quietly beneath it.

The sounds of the forest quieted as they moved forward, and Dorian’s eyes flicked back and forth amongst the trees and hill tops. The Inquisitor’s hand was on her daggers at her belt, Iron Bull was tensed, his own hand ready to reach back and grab his great axe.

They moved along, everyone silent as they all watched among the trees. But they passed through without an incident, the birds beginning their songs again as the trees along the hill tops thinned out a bit and the road opened wide again. But the army was slow to move through and Dorian kept glancing over behind him as they went along, looking back as they slowly filed through the tunnel of tree roots and hill sides.

Suddenly there was a cry from back along the ranks and Dorian’s heart jumped as he looked back. He could hear men and women shouting in alarm, animals braying in surprise.

“To arms! To arms!” He could hear Cullen’s voice call, it sounded distant. Back near the where the thickest part of the trees emptied out to the widened area of the road.

Men and women were stumbling over themselves, panicked as they tried to get their weapons out of their sheaths. It was chaos and Dorian’s horse bucked and reared as he tried to get the beast to turn back around.

A braying horn sounded, and Dorian quickly leapt off his horses’ back, beginning to run as fast as he could back towards the commotion.

“Dorian!” The Inquisitor cried behind him. But he didn’t listen, didn’t stop. He had to get to Cullen. He had to help the man.

As Dorian ran he lept _forward_ with a Fade Step. The world condensed around him, the Fade throwing his body forward through the commotion of soldiers. He came out of the Fade Step at a run, his hands reaching to unhook his staff hooked over his back. He Fade Stepped again, his breath coming ragged gasps as he closed in on the wagons under attack. He could see Cullen with his shield raised, volleys of arrows and magical missiles from approaching attackers on the hills falling around the men and women near the wagons.

Dorian reached deep, pulling on what reserves of mana he could and once more leapt forward, coming within range of the soldiers. He continued to run, uncorking a lyrium potion with his teeth, downing the liquid quickly. It filled the empty pool of his magic and Dorian paused in his reckless rush forward to reach up and _pulled_ the Fade downward, creating a blanket Barrier that covered Cullen and the surrounding allies, just as another volley of arrows and missiles came crashing around them. They passed harmlessly into the Fade. But the barrier could only absorb so many physical attacks before it disappeared.

And there were rushing Venatori soldiers, swords and axes raised as they came careening down the hillside towards the wagons. The pass beneath the trees behind the wagons was blocked, people pushing to try and get to the fighting, to protect the vulnerable supplies. Men and women were running from the front to aid the wagons behind them on the path. Dorian rushed forward, once more Fade Stepping just in front of the Commander.

“Yaah!” He shouted, throwing _outward_ a burst of enormous energy in a sweeping arc in front of himself and the soldiers behind him. Venatori rogues and soldiers stumbled at the Mind Blast, and Dorian was setting up to throw a great wall of fire to try and cut the forces off, hopefully giving them enough time to gather their own forces around the wagons, when a large hand gripped his shoulder painfully and tossed him back.

Dorian landed on his side with a thud, his breath knocked out of him as he looked up, Cullen stepping in front of a sword as it swept downward just where Dorian had been moments before. The sword clanged hard against the ex-Templar’s shoulder, sparking against the man’s plated armor. Cullen retaliated, smashing his shield hard against the attacker’s side. Shield Bashing the Venatori viciously again and again, until the other fell. The blonde’s sword swept out, artfully sliding just between the attacker’s helm and breast plate, slicing through the soft flesh of his neck. The Venatori fell, choking on his own blood, his hands grasping at his neck in vain as he tried to stop the steady spurt of his life’s vital fluid.

Cullen took a defensive stance, directly in front of Dorian as the mage stood up gathering his staff.

A quick wall of flame from Dorian’s hand shot up, cutting the attacking forces in half. And as the defender’s fought back, their allies closing in quickly to assist, the Venatori fell, some scrabbling back up the hill they’d hidden on, where Leliana’s scouts made quick work of the men in retreat. The rest of the Venatori were handily beaten back, and the attack came to an end almost as quickly as it had begun.

Dorian’s breath was loud in his ears, sweat beading along his brow. Cullen, also puffing loudly, turned to look at him. The man had blood spattered along his jaw and the front of his chest plate. He looked as barbaric as the tales of old Fereldan war stories told. And Dorian wanted nothing more than to touch that handsome face, and run his fingers through the soft blonde locks.

“You were supposed to be protecting the Inquisitor.” Cullen said, his voice low with anger.

“She can take care of herself. And there were plenty with her.” Dorian said, swallowing thickly as he caught his breath. His cheeks burned with a flush of indignation at the other’s accusatory tone.

Dorian watched as Cullen looked around the surrounding men and women. They had suffered no losses with the attack. Only one wagon was damaged, and the injuries, while most serious in nature, were minimal. It gave Dorian hope for the larger battle they were walking straight into.

“Get this wagon back in order. We will not stop here!” Cullen called, directing some menial labor to the scorched wagon.

The man turned away from him without another word, going back to ordering the subordniate men and woman, ensuring the work was done quickly and efficiently. Dorian noticed him favoring his arm that the Venatori’s sword had smashed down upon, but the man didn’t say anything or call over a healer.

Dorian turned and walked back towards the front of the line, his head hanging low as he did so. He had at least protected the man he cared most about, but the other’s gruff response made the victory bitter sweet.

It took less than an hour before they had the caravan back to it’s slow crawl forward, and they got out of the tight pass without another incident. Leliana had ridden up next to the Inquisitor after the attack, and had endured the angry remarks tossed her way. Eventually Lady Trevelyan had said her fill and urged her horse forward, riding alone ahead of the troops. Even Iron Bull didn’t join her as they continued along the broken, overgrown road.

As they came to a stop that evening, stopping a little later than they usually would have, the Inquisitor and her two Advisors (Josephine remained at SkyHold) spoke together quietly about the next day’s ride. They were less than a day to meet with the Emperor’s forces just outside the temple.

Dorian was brushing down his horse after dinner when he glanced over and saw Cullen speaking with one of the lieutenants before moving to go to his tent. One last pat to the mare’s neck and Dorian found his feet heading towards the other man’s tent. The angry statement from earlier gave him pause at the tent flap, but he remembered the way the other had held his arm to his side the rest of the ride to the camp. Worry for the soldier pushed him inside.

Cullen was attempting to remove his armor, his face pale as he tried to lift his arm high enough to unbuckle the straps holding it it closed around him.

“Let me help.” Dorian said, standing near the flap of the tent.

Cullen glanced over at him sharply, dark circles under his eyes, exacerbated by his palor.

“You should be getting rest. Tomorrow we reach the temple.” The man said, groaning in pain as his fingers found the buckles along his side. Dorian moved forward, ignoring the other’s protesting sounds as he reached and swiftly dealt with the offending straps. The coat fell away with a loud thud to the ground, and Cullen swayed slightly, his hand reaching up to wipe at his damp brow.

There was a dark angry red and purple bruise that swelled under his shirt, it’s color crawling slightly up Cullen’s neck.

“Maker!” Dorian exclaimed, reaching forward to gently lift the neck of Cullen’s shirt to look at the damage. “You should see a healer!”

“They are busy with far worse than mine. It is only a broken bone, it can wait until morning.”

Dorian looked at Cullen with wide eye’d shock. “Only a broken bone! It look like your entire collar bone is shattered!”

“A broken bone can wait, Dorian. I am not bleeding out.”

“You could be! You could be bleeding underneath your skin!”

Cullen laughed softly and shook his head, his eyes soft as he looked at Dorian. “I am not. Don’t fret over it.” He turned away and tried to bend over to unbuckle the armored boots, stumbling slightly as he did so.

Dorian reached forward, grabbing the man’s waist to steady him. “Sit down.” He said, helping the other to sit on his bed roll. He knelt in front of him, reaching down to untie the boots, pulling them off the other’s feet gently. “I’m going to get a healer, I’ll be back.”

“No.” Cullen said, looking at Dorian with a stern expression. “Do not bother them. I will get it attended to in the morning.

“You nearly passed out!”

“I said it does not need a healer until morning. It still hurts, of course.” Cullen stated, sighing slightly as he pulled his good arm through his sleeve. He lifted his shirt halfway over his head, groaning slightly as he did so. The man struggled slightly with the shirt, only one arm working as he tried to slip it over.

Dorian made a sound of irritation and reached over, gently helping him remove the shirt, pulling it slowly over the damaged shoulder. The clavicle bone was clearly out of place, swollen and an angry purplish red. Dorian reached up to gently trace a finger over the other’s shoulder.

“Don’t’!” Cullen shouted, his breath coming in puffing gasps, and his face draining again of any color that had returned to it.

Dorian’s jaw clenched and he kept his angry retort about a healer behind his lips. “Have you eaten?” He asked instead.

“I am not hungry.” Cullen said, his breathing coming back to normal as he turned himself to lay back gingerly on the sleeping mat. One of his brown eyes cracked open to look at Dorian curiously. “You should get some sleep.” He said again.

Dorian shifted on his feet, still in the kneeling position near the other’s sleeping mat. He stared down at the ground next to the soft bedding, his hand reaching out to pick at the grass. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay here and ensure that Cullen didn’t die from shock in his sleep.

Cullen sighed, taking the other’s silence for what it was. “Fine. You may sleep here.” He said, his head tilting back towards a small lantern that glowed in the corner of the tent. “But would you blow that out first?” He asked.

Dorian looked up at Cullen smiling softly at the other. “A small price to pay.” He whispered, moving to blow out the small candle beneath the glass cover. He removed his own boots and shirt swiftly before crawling in next to the other man. Cullen had rolled to lay on his good shoulder, his wounded arm lifted off the ground. Dorian lay on his side facing the other man. They both watched each other in the silent darkness of the tent. There was the soft sounds of boots from pacing guards outside, and the chirrup of unknown insects and frogs in the surrounding trees.

“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.” Dorian said softly, his voice sounding like blasting gaatlok in the quiet.

Cullen was silent for a moment. “I would do it again.” He finally answered. Dorian’s heart leapt at the words, both in hope and in crushing despair. He knew his hope was folly. Cullen would never love him the way he loved the other man. “Your help was invaluable earlier. I know I was harsh... I apologize.”

Dorian slid closed to the other man, his hand coming up to gently touch the thick muscled waist. Both men lay quietly, even as Dorian’s hand slipped along Cullen’s waist to his belly, his fingers brushing through the fine hairs that covered the man’s abdomen and chest.

“Go to sleep.” Cullen finally said, his good arm removing Dorian’s own from his skin. Dorian nodded and sighed. “Turn over.” Cullen commanded.

“Oh! Well, I usually expect dinner first.” Dorian quipped, smirking at Cullen’s derisive snort. He did as was bid, however. At first they lay separated. But after a few minutes, Dorian felt Cullen’s arm slip over his waist, pulling gently to bring him back against the warrior’s chest.

There was a soft groan of pain from the blonde has he moved, his hand convulsing on Dorian’s rib cage. Dorian was still, listening to the other’s gasping breaths. He turned his head slightly to the side, listening as Cullen’s breath slowly evened out. His own hand found Cullen’s draped along his ribs, and his finger’s threaded between the other’s thicker, sword roughened ones.

“I might die tomorrow.” He said, fear lancing through his belly at the thought.

Cullen remained silent for a long minute, and Dorian wondered if he’d fallen asleep already.

“We all might die tomorrow.” The man answered finally.

“Aren’t you scared?” Dorian finally asked, confused by Cullen’s response.

“Of course. But being scared won’t change the fact.”

Dorian lay unspeaking as he thought about the man’s rather astute words. Harsh, but true none the less. He listened as Cullen’s breathing evened out into the steady, deep rhythm of sleep. It took far longer for him to fall into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning Dorian awoke with a start. Cullen, of course, was gone. The tent was lit faintly with the rising sun’s rays, condensation gathered on the tent’s walls dripped quietly, adding to the early morning song of the forest. Dorian rolled from his laying position on his stomach, groaning as he coughed lightly. His ribs ached from where he’d been laying on a rock. He was barely beginning to sit up when Cullen came into the tent, glancing at him.

“Get up.” He snapped, reaching to grab the mage’s shirt and tossing it at him. Dorian blinked at him once and began pulling the shirt over his head. The warrior was quickly putting what few items he’d unpacked the night before into a small rucksack. As Dorian slipped his boots on, Cullen began to quickly roll the small bedroll they’d shared up.

Dorian moved off of it with a soft exclamation. The roll was tied up with a quick efficiency and Cullen slipped out of the tent again, with the roll and rucksack in hand. Dorian yawned as he pulled his last boot on.

“Go get breakfast.” Cullen said as he re-entered the tent, his hands quickly untying the fabric of the tent from the wooden poles that had held it up.

“Did you see a healer?” Dorian asked, standing up as the back of the tent fell and Cullen pushed him out of the front flap ungraciously.

“Yes. Go get breakfast and pack up. We’re heading out.” The man said, his voice sharp and clipped.

Dorian pouted slightly and ran a hand through his hair. He’d need to do a quick check in the mirror, make sure sleeping in his hair pomade hadn’t messed it up too much. It wasn’t like they had a bath available on the road. He turned and headed back towards where he’d left his horse and pack. He hadn’t set up his tent the night before, so packing up was easy enough, just latching it back to the saddle.

Breakfast had been cold by the time he’d grabbed some. He’d been lucky at all to get any food, the servants had already begun cleaning up. They gave him a half full cup of overly brewed cold tea, and a brimming bowl of clumpy oats. He ate quietly, eyes roaming the camp as everyone finished packing up. It was a quick and efficient and by the time he’d finished his bowl of oats and handed the bowl back to an irritated servant, the caravan was already moving along the road.

Dorian got onto his horse and rode to the front, catching up with the Inquisitor and the others. Cassandra glanced at him inquisitively, her eyes narrowed.

They rode for hours more, the sun rising in the sky, warming the grey morning into a hot, humid afternoon. It wasn’t noon by the time they met with the Emperor and his forward guard.

“Hail, Inquisitor! Always lovely to see you.” He said. 

Charming, for an Orlesian, Dorian thought.

The party got off their mounts. There were already the sounds of battles raging in the forest. The Inquisitor asked the Emperor how long they’d been there and the man admitted they’d only gotten there a few hours before. But the resistance they’d already met had been fierce. There were mentions of a great darkspawn dragon flying in the area as well. But no one had seen Corypheus.

“We’ll head out now.” Trevelyan said.

Leliana, Cullen, Morrigan, and the Emperor of Orlais stood behind her as she turned towards her entourage of closest allies.

Iron Bull was the first to step forward. “I’m going with you.” He stated.

“No. You’ll stay here-”

“No! I’m going with you!” He roared, clearly a conversation they’d had before, coming to a head.

“You will remain here! With your company and help the soldiers! That is what I pay you for!” Trevelyan shouted, her face flushing red with anger.

The Bull stood, his hulking mass toe to toe with the tiny human woman. They were near complete physical opposites and yet both were as unyielding as a brood dragon. Finally after a tense few moments the Qunari growled and turned to stomp off to his mercenary company in the distance.

Trevelyan’s hands relaxed from the tight fists and she turned back towards the people gathered around watching the spectacle. “Solas... You’re with me. If anyone can help divine the secrets of the temple, I trust you can.”

The elf only nodded sagely and stepped forward silently to stand behind the Inquisitor next to Morrigan.

She looked over her companions some more.

“I don’t know anything about this creepy elf stuff, but I can kill Venatori.” Sera pipped up. The Inquisitor nodded at her and waved over towards a band of scouts that were waiting for Leliana’s attention.

“You’ll help Leliana, Sera. Your arrows will serve better on the field.”

The blonde elf nodded at the woman and moved away from the small band.

“Cassandra, with me. Your skills will come in hand with all these mages.”

“Yes, Inquisitor.” Cassandra moved to stand on the other side of the dark red haired woman.

“Varric, would you please help Bull.” She said, her voice soft as she looked at the dwarf.

“For you, my lady? Anything. Oh,” He said, as he started walking away, he turned to look at Cassandra, “And don’t die Seeker. I’ve started work on the next chapter of Swords and Shields, just for you.” He said grinning like a fool as the Nevarran woman blushed and looked at him wide eyed with embarrassment. Dorian couldn’t help his smirk.

“Quiet, Tevinter.” Cassandra hissed at him.

“Blackwall... Please assist the Commander. I know you have a lot of experience with battles of this magnitude.”

The bearded man bowed low. Dorian wondered at him, contemplating why he kept the name Blackwall, even after being ousted as Thom Rainier. But the other man’s secrets were his own. And Dorian didn’t feel the need to pry.

“I can feel him. He knows you’re here, he needs to get it before you can.” Cole stated, his wide eyes latched onto the Inquisitor.

Trevelyan watched the young man for a few moments and then looked at Leliana. The Spy Master nodded and waved at Cole. “Come here, Cole. You will help me.” She said, her soft accent voice drawing the spirit boy’s eyes away from the Inquisitor.

Dorian looked around him. It was he and Vivienne and he knew which the Inquisitor would choose between the two of them.

“Vivienne, if you would assist the mages. They need a strong leader.”

“Anything, my dear. Your word is my command.” The tall woman nodded at the Inquisitor before she glided over towards a small group of mages standing around, looking lost amongst the turmoil of the army base camp.

Trevelyan’s grey eyes fell to him, and Dorian looked back unblinking. His heart hammered in his chest, fear drying his mouth out. He only nodded at her, and she to him. The woman turned and looked at the three people now in charge of operations. “Spare no one. We will not take prisoners. We will not show mercy. As they have shown us none.”

Cullen bowed his head, his hand hitting his chest hard in a formal salute. The Emperor and Leliana both nodded slightly towards her.

“Let’s go.” The Inquisitor said, turning on her heel and starting towards the temple that loomed in the distance.

“Wait! I need to grab a couple potions!” Dorian said. The entourage paused and Treveylan frowned at him.

“Hurry up.” She snapped, once more turning and walking towards the exit of the camp.

Dorian turned and rushed towards the nearby wagon of elixirs. He ripped open a case of lyrium potions, grabbing three and putting them gently into a pouch. He grabbed two regeneration potions as well, putting them neatly into his other pouch.

As he was jogging to catch up to the Inquisitor he looked over at the table where Cullen was standing with the Emperor, looking at hastily drawn maps by the scouts in the area. The blonde man looked up, and their eyes locked as Dorian jogged past towards the group. The templar gave a small salute, tilting his head towards Dorian and a pang of fear twinged Dorian’s heart. Fear that he would never see the other man again.

He caught up with the small group of people, reaching into his healing potions pouch and pulled out one of the regeneration potions he’d grabbed, holding it out towards Cassandra. The woman made a small exclamation of surprise and took it.

The fighting to the temple was fierce. There was opposition at nearly every turn. The Venatori had clearly been in the area for some time, searching for the entrance to the temple. But their hard work led the Inquisitor and her group directly to the front doors of the ancient ruins.

Where Corypheus already was. They watched as he battled with some strange elves. But when the Magister died, and then resurrected, everyone felt the surge of panic. They slipped into the temple, the darkspawn dragon’s fire hot on the back of Dorian’s neck. The doors slid shut with a loud bang, a magical seal shutting them tightly. There was more fighting, More Venatori. But also, those strange elves.

Solas claimed to know nothing of them, but Dorian had a vague feeling the elf was lying. Not that he could prove it to anyone there.

They rushed after the group of Venatori but Morrigan shouted, claiming they should do the temple’s puzzles. Solas agreed with the witch. Both he and Cassandra were ambivalent. Cassandra reminded the Inquisitor that time was of the essence. They had men and women fighting to the death outside.

“We’ll do the rituals.” The Inquisitor finally ceded. Following as Morrigan led them to a side chamber.

Dorian was caught off guard as a strong hand grabbed is wrist, pulling him back as the other three walked into the room. He gassped as he was slammed against a wall, a strong hand wrapping it’s way around his throat.

“I’ve been meaning to ask your intentions with the Commander. But have not had time. Now that we come here, I’m afraid I must insist you tell me.” Cassandra’s hand was tight around his neck and Dorian stared at her wide eyed. He’d thought they were getting along of late. She seemed to have at least accepted him into the fold, if nothing else. But this sudden attack left caught him off guard.

“You’re... choking me.” He gasped out, his hand coming up to grab at her strong fingers wrapped around his throat.

“If I were actually choking you, Master Pavus, you would not be breathing.” She stated, but her hand lessened it’s grip. “I saw you last night. Entering his tent. I have heard the rumors. Now hear me. If you so much as harm one hair on that man’s head, I will remove your own from your shoulders.” She hissed.

“We should try to survive this first, don’t you think?” He said, his hand wrapped around her wrist.

“Why do you bother him?” She asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She removed her leather gloved hand away from his neck and took a step back to eye him warily.

“Because...” Dorian paused, wondering how much he could tell the woman. She was clearly a romantic, those ridiculous books she enjoyed reading from Varric. “He is my Knight Captain.” He said, glancing up through his lashed into her eyes, hoping she would get the metephor.

The woman watched him closely for a moment, before her features softened. “I see.” This seemed to satisfy her, at least for the time being and she went to join the others inside the side passage.

They passed the trials with a little work, and as they entered the temple, one of the elves approached, granting them passage through the side passages.

However an argument between Morrigan and the lead elven warrior ensued, and the two fled off ahead of the group.

They walked through as ancient elven warriors battles with the Venatori that had entered into the chambers with force, finally coming out to a great open area, a beautiful pool of water, and an untouched eluvian standing in the distance.

Calpernia stood in their way, threatening to kill them if they dared enter the pool before her master.

The fighting was nearly fatal for them all.

Dorian fell, blood seeping from a gash on his forehead. He turned his head, even as he reached for the regeneration potion from his pouch. The magical potion revived him, easing the pain from the wounds marring his body. His clothing was tattered, blood soaked. Calpernia cast a Mind Blast, causing both Cassandra and Trevelyan to be flung away, their bodies limp. Dorian stood up, leaning against his staff for support. The potion was working, but it’s work was slow. He reached deep, searching for anything left inside. And was able to pull forth a spirit from a nearby Venatior body, the enraged spirit attacking Calpernia, creating enough of a distraction that the Inquisitor was able to get back up and sink her blades deep into the blighted mage’s back.

The woman screamed and clawed, crying for her lord and master to save her. But her cries went unheard. Dorian wiped at his eyes, brushing blood from his sight. Trevelyan stumbled over to him and looked up at the pool of water as Morrigan and the ancient elf battle near the water’s edge.

The four of them were able to stumble up the steps. Morrigan pleading with the elf to let her have the waters.

Dorian barely heard anything of what was being said. His eyes were drawn to the pool. He could.... hear voices. Singing. It sounded distinctly like the song of the Veil. But the voices were singing in an ancient language, so old Dorian wondered if even Solas would be able to understand.

“What do you think, Dorian?” Trevelyan asked, looking over at him. He snapped back at the sound of his name, looking at the Inquisitor questioningly.

“Think of what?” He asked, cheeks aflame as he realized he’d missed a rather important discussion.

The Inquisitor shook her head, her hair matted with blood and gore. “Should Morrigan take the pool?”

“I... Don’t know.” He admitted, once more his gaze drawn to the waters where the voices sang out to him. He wished he knew. He wished he could understand what they sang.

There was arguing continuing in the distance and Dorian was oblivious to it. What did this mean? Why was he able to hear these voices? He heard Abelas mention something about the pool having the knowledge of the elven ages in it. But why could Dorian hear it?

“Very well, Morrigan.” The Inquisitor once more conceded to the witches demands. Cassandra growled in protest but didn’t say any more as the raven haired woman stepped into the pool.

And as she did the singing grew in volume, Dorian winced, glancing away from the bright shining light emanating from the pool. The waters swirled, coalesced around the woman walking into the waters. She cried out, her voice an echoing sound of all the voices of the pool. Dorian’s hands covered his ears in search of relief from the wailing.

As the waters receded, there was a growing shout of anger from the entrance of the chamber and everyone glanced over as Corypheus walked through the doors.

“The Eluvian!” The Inquisitor cried, and all rushed forward toward the glowing glass.

“I’ll break it down behind us, go!” Morrigan cried.

Dorian and Cassandra paused at the entrance briefly, glancing at each other as both Trevelyan and Solas rushed through without hesitating.

“Go!” Morrigan cried, even as Corypheus came flying across the chasm towards them. Without thinking Dorian ran through the glass, Cassandra after him, and Morrian last of all. They stumbled out into a strange world. Not the fade, as they’d been in at Adamant but it had the same feel to. It was... strange.

The witch turned and cast a spell that caused the way back to shatter, a cry of anger and despair following them from Corypheus left behind at the temple.

“Where are we?” Dorian asked, glancing about the place.

“The Crossroads. Or so Morrigan says.” Treveyan walked back towards the slumped witch. The black haired woman was unresponsive as she tried to get her to stand up. “Help me.”

“How do we get back?” Dorian asked, looking over his shoulder towards the broken mirror.

“We don’t.” Morrigan intoned, her voice sounding far away. “We must go forward. Back to SkyHold.”

“SkyHold! But they’re still fighting back there!” Dorian wailed, anguish at the thought that he’d left Cullen and the others to the mercy of the deranged magister.

“We can’t go back, Dorian. It’s broken. Let’s return to SkyHold, we’ll send a raven as soon as we can.” The Inquisitor said. Cassandra was helping Trevelyan lift the witch, and carry her as she directed them towards a working Eluvian, which the other claimed would lead them back to the mountainous retreat.

They wandered through the strange Crossroads for hours it felt like. Dorian clutching at his side. The regeneration potion could only heal so much. His bleeding wounds had dried up, and most of the gashes on his skin were healed. But he still was bruised and beaten. There was a cut on his leg that would need stitches when they returned to the keep.

The battered and beaten group finally found the Eluvian that returned to the keep and they wandered through it, startling a group of mothers praying in the gardens. Mother Giselle rushed over and began fusing over the Inquisitor, sending for healers.

They’d sent out a raven as soon as the healers had finished with them. But the bird would still take a day and a half to reach the front lines. Even then, it was only a missive. It wasn’t known how many losses they had sustained.

Three days passed without return word.

Dorian sat at in a chair at his favorite table in the library. The sun was warm on his back. A book sat up to a random page. He stared at it, not truly reading the words on the page. Every now and then his fingers would pinch a page and turn it. But the histories of Nevarran royalty were hardly interesting enough to bring Dorian from the strange place of apathy he found himself.

The sun was setting, a woman came by, lighting candles around the room for those still about. She paused and looked at him staring unseeing at the book, before lighting the candelabra sitting in the center of the table.

There was a soft sound an hour later, a gentle clearing of a throat to get his attention. Dorian looked up and saw Josephine hovering at the other end of the table. He tried a small smile at her.

“I came to see if you would join me for dinner?”

“I’m not very hungry, I’m afraid.” Dorian answered. He liked Josephine. She was a kind woman and her stories were famously hilarious.

“I had the cooks make your favorite sweet roasted carrots.” She said, her tone hopeful. Dorian’s eyes flicked up to hers, and he sighed heavily. She was worried for him.

“You know I cannot say no to those carrots.” He jibed, pushing away from the table. His body ached and groaned from the motion. He had barely moved at all since sitting that morning. His cup of tea was still sitting, untouched and cold, on the edge of the table.

Josephine smiled sadly at him.

Dorian held out his arm towards her, and the woman took it in her own. Her hand was warm and soft as it rested against his forearm. They headed down the stairs to the great hall.

There wasn’t really anyone at the keep for the time being. Most of the nobles had left, without the Inquisitor around to try and impress, and the army dwindled down to a small band of guards there hadn’t been much to garner their attention for the past couple of weeks.

The grand hall felt oddly empty with the few guards on roation, a handful of nobles that lingered in the shadows. Josephine led Dorian to a table set for the returned group. Trevelyan and Cassandra sat at the table already, their plates filled with food. Dorian sat down, smiling at the two women.

He wondered at Trevelyan as she sat quietly, cutting into her chicken. She seemed so calm, if quieter than usual, even though Iron Bull was still out there. And most likely in far more danger even that Cullen was, being that the hulking qunari never took a back seat in a good fight. He watched her carefully, eyes searching for any sign of emotion.

Josephine was putting food onto his plate for him, a few roasted carrots, pieces of some green vegetable and a leg of the chicken that sat between the four of them. Dorian suddenly felt like a child, being served at a family dinner.

But he didn’t protest, instead reaching to pick up the pitcher of watered down wine and pouring himself a glass.

Josephine moved and sat on the other of the table from him, primly serving herself a small portion of each item offered. They sat in silence, eating quietly. Solas was nowhere to be seen, but that was nothing unusual.

His movements were automatic. Fork, knife, mouth. Chew. Fork, knife, mouth. Chew. Sip of wine.

The food tasted wonderful, but he was unable to enjoy it, thinking of the friends they’d left behind.

“A missive has come in, my lady!” A young man cried, rushing towards Trevelyan with a small piece of parchment in his fingers.

The Inquisitor stood up quickly, reaching to grab the piece of paper from the young man’s hand.

Dorian and Cassandra watched her with held breath, both curious about what was in the note but knowing not to ask before she was ready to tell them.

Trevelyan’s face remained passive as she read. It was a short missive, Dorian could see that much. But the woman stared at it longer than belied it’s legnth. Panic began to rise in his throat, and he felt the carrots he’d just consumed churn angrily in his stomach.

She handed the note to Josephine and turned, walking off towards her quarters. Dorian watched her go, his breath catching in his throat, fingers tightly gripping the edge of the table. Cassandra and him turned to look at the Ambassador.

Her delicate hands picked up the paper and unfurled it. “Many wounded. Still counting dead. Return is delayed. Leliana.” Josephine read out. Her face paled as she set the missive down on the table top. Nothing was said between them. Slowly Josephine stood up, smiling at the two still at the table.

“I think I am going to my chambers. I seem to have lost my appetite.” She said, her eyes searching Dorian’s face.

Cullen wasn’t mentioned. Surely Leliana would have mentioned if anyone of importance had died. Dorian watched the woman leave the table, her eyes sparkling with tears.

Cassandra beside him picked her fork back up, returning to her meal. He watched as a neatly cut piece of chicken slipped between her thin lips, her jaw working reflexively to chew.

“Do not watch me eat. It makes me uncomfortable.” She said after swallowing the bite.

“How can you?” He asked, mildly horrified at her acceptance of what the missive said. And didn’t say.

“My eating does not change what has transpired, Master Pavus.” She turned and looked at him, her face passive, but there was something underneath the look. It was almost like pity. “I suggest you eat as well, to keep up your strength. We do not know where Corypheus is. And the threat he poses is still very real.”

She was right, of course. In an almost sociopathic way. Dorian turned and looked down at his barely touched meal. His fingers mechanically picked up his fork and knife. Fork. Knife. Mouth... The food sat on his tongue, his jaw shivered as he bit down on the softened carrot. Chew. Tears burned hot in his eyes and the world swam around him. Fork. Knife. He swallowed his mouthful of food, his throat constricting painfully as tears wobbled on the edges of his lashes. Mouth. They fell, dripping hot down his cheeks and dampened his lips, adding a bitter saltiness to the food in his mouth. Chew.

Fork.

Knife.

A hand touched his shoulder and Dorian looked over at the stoic Seeker. “Cullen will be alright. He is a survivor. He will return to us, in due time.”

Dorian’s body shivered as he let out a long, shaky breath. Mouth. Chew.

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Cassandra the very picture of serene, Dorian less so.

After the meal, he found himself wandering the battlements, his eyes continuing to follow the path out of the keep through the mountains. Somewhere out that way, Cullen was marching with what was left of the army back to SkyHold. At least that’s what Dorian told himself. What Cassandra believed.

His footsteps followed the stone battlements around until he found himself at the door of the familiar tower. The door squeaked on it’s hinges as he stepped inside. It was cool inside with the fading summer evenings. Dorian walked over to a large standing candelabra in the corner, waving his fingers lightly and lighting the candles. He glanced over at the large desk where the Commander usually stood, pouring over volumes of battle tactics and maps of the regions the Inquisitor explored. But the desk was empty, save a large leather folder full of papers set in the middle of the desk, waiting for Cullen’s return. The books usually littering the great wooden desk top had been neatly put away in the bookcase nearby, the quills and ink pots put away in the desk drawers for later use.

Dorian pulled up the rarely used chair and sat down, his fingers running over the smooth wood. Without all the items piled high on every inch of it, the desk was ridiculously large. He turned his attention to the leather folder in front of him. Reaching for it, he swiftly untied the front and flipped it open, looking at the paper inside. It was as expected, various missives from far away generals, neatly folded maps of the region. Dorian closed the folder and sighed, leaning back and looking around the small room.

He glanced over at the bookcase, standing to go and study the titles. Nothing truly interesting. ‘War Tactics of the Orlesian Chevalier’, in multiple volumes. ‘Battle Plans of the First Inquisition’ by someone or other. Dorian’s eyes scanned the rest of the shelves. More of the same.

A stack of books on the floor behind the desk caught his attention and he turned to look. Kneeling beside the books, he couldn’t help but smile, noting there were a couple volumes of ‘Hard in Hightown’, a few different volumes about dragons and their Nevarran hunter counterparts, volumes by Brother Genitivi.

Dorian paused, his eyes catching a book near the top of the pile. ‘Tevinter Noble Families and Their Role in Magesterium Politicks’ by Brother Genitivi. Dorian grabbed the book, lifting it up. It’s plain black leather bound cover showed slight wear. Dorian was sure the Magesterium had burned every copy found in the country. And he didn’t think that anyone outside the Tevinter Imperium much cared for the politics inside the country. Cullen must have searched far and wide for the book itself.

He flipped it open and the book fell to a page marked by a dark greenish black feather.

‘House Pavus’ – the title read.

‘House Pavus is an old name. They date back to ancient Tevinter, possibly even-‘

Dorian let his finger scan the page. There was a small hash mark near a sentence half way down the page ‘I had the distinct pleasure of supping with Lord Halward Pavus, of House Pavus. He was an extremely intelligent man, and it was pleasurable to converse with him. I learned that he had very traditionally held views of how the Magisterium should be led. But when I broached the subject of Blood Magic, he was quite outspoken about his dislike for the whole thing. Most of the houses I spoke to would give a formal ‘no, no of course we don’t _like_ the idea’, but Pavus was quite insistent that it was perverse.

It was then his lovely newly wed wife came down to greet us, heavy with child. And the conversation took a less serious tone.’

Dorian let the book close. He wondered just when Cullen had read the book. Was it before, or after he had learned what Dorian’s father had done? Did it change the man’s opinion of him? To know that he had grown up, surrounded with the idea that Blood Magic was inherently wrong?

He placed the book back on top of the pile. Standing up, Dorian snuffed out the candles and made his way up the familiar ladder to the bed. It was neatly made, a clean set of clothing folded and waiting on the edge of the bed for when Cullen returned.

Dorian kicked off his boots, took the clothes and set them neatly onto the nearby chair. He pulled back the thin covers and climbed into the bed, grabbing a pillow and holding it close. It smelled faintly of Cullen. Leather, sword oil, sweat. The distinct odor of a warrior. And one Dorian was finding himself inexplicably drawn towards.

His eyes burned with tears again and he sighed heavily, forcing himself to steady his breathing. The night was quiet, except for the strange music. And Dorian soon found himself falling into a deep, dreamless slumber.

The days passed, much the same as any other day. Dorian did his best to keep busy, reading volumes or training with his staff with Cassandra when his thoughts became too loud. The nights were generally spent sitting with Josephine, listening to the woman’s stories. He would tell his own of Tevinter and she would giggle gleefully, clapping her hands when something utterly ridiculous happened. She especially seemed keen on his stories of romantic trysts during his time in Minrathous. Occasionally even Cassandra would sit, starry eyed as he would tell the old tales of courtly love that he could remember from his mother.

It was almost a week later when a raven appeared, a dark warning in it’s clutch.

‘The dragon was seen a hundred miles from SkyHold. Leliana’

A hundred miles was nothing for a dragon.

Panic ensued, the few nobles that had returned to the keep were quick to pack up their belongings, wailing about how they shouldn’t have returned before the army. Dorian wasn’t sorry to see them leave. The guards on duty were put on extra rounds, marching the battlements day and night. There wasn’t very many of them, but they did their diligence, keeping eyes open for any sight of a dragon, or the returning army.

Dorian was sitting in front of the grand fireplace in the hall when there was a shout of excitement from outside. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the clattering of hooves echoing from the courtyard. Someone had returned. Giddy hope sprang in his chest and Dorian quickly shut his book, setting it down on his chair as he stood up, heading for the doorway, just as a blonde head of hair was rushing up the stairs towards the entrance.

“You’re alive!” Dorian exclaimed, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

Cullen looked up at him, his face drawn, a large partially healed gash over his eyebrow. “Where is the Inquisitor?” The other asked, his voice tight and sharp.

Dorian blinked, clearly happier to see Cullen than the man was to see him. “In her quarters, I think...” He said, reaching a hand out to help the weary Commander up the last few steps.

Cullen brushed away the offered hand, pushing past Dorian. “Get her for us! We will be in the war room.”

Leliana glanced at Dorian as well, her head bowing slightly. “He is happy to see you, too.” She whispered as she past, following in the Commander’s wake towards the war room.

“I’ll... go get the Inquisitor...” Dorian said. His giddiness at the other man’s return was not dampened by the gruffness of the other’s arrival.

Dorian turned on his heel, working down the desire to shout in glee, as he headed towards the Inquisitor’s personal quarters to get her for the two returned advisors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think Cullen would really be gone? C'mon, you've all played the game. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War is dirty, smelly. It takes what it can, leaving nothing behind but sorrow, guilt, and pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick scribble of sap, since you know, the past couple chapters have been kind of heavy. Sorry.

Cullen stood quietly near the war table as the Inquisitor and Leliana spoke together about where and when the Archdemon dragon was last seen. They’d only just returned to SkyHold. They had had to push ahead of the roving band of the army, the caravan moving slowly with the amount of wounded needing to be carried back. It had been a hard battle, fought for days after the Inquisitor and the others had disappeared.

When the band of adventure’s had not returned from the temple Cullen had assumed the worst. He’d gathered together a group of his most trusted soldiers and the next morning they had headed for the temple, fighting through a few of the Venatori that had retaken the area.

But the temple had been empty. They had searched the empty ruins for any signs of what had happened to the Inquisitor and her companions. But the longer they searched, without even finding a body, the more hopeless Cullen felt.

They had returned the front lines of the army camp, Cullen having the gashing wound on his head from a surprise rogue attack seen to by a healer.

And Leliana had approached him with a message. ‘From SkyHold. They’ve returned safely.’ She had told him, knowing how anxious he was feeling about the missing group.

Relief had swept through his entire body and he nodded, a smile on his lips. Leliana had only reached out and touched his shoulder gently, knowingly.

They’d sent the short missive in return the next morning after allowing the bird to rest. There had been a fierce battle with some of the last Venatori holed up nearby in a crumbling tower of unknown origin. Iron Bull had been felled, his mercenary band fighting like demons to assure he was returned to the healers safely.

The Inquisitor had not been pleased when given the news that the qunari had been badly wounded. But she had accepted it with a short nod, her face pinched in anger and worry.

“Our forces are still almost a week out.” Cullen noted as the two women debated battle plans. “A few were to leave on the mounts we had after Leliana and I left, however... I fear they are still days away.”

It had taken Leliana and himself three days hard ride to reach the base of the Frostback Mountain pass that led back up to SkyHold. And the treacherous climb back through the pass had taken almost a full day itself. They were not laden down with wagons or wounded, and could move through the dark of night.

Leliana nodded at Cullen. “This is true. We must be vigilant until our troops are able to make it back up the mountain paths.” She agreed with him.

The Inquisitor nodded and stepped away from the table. “You two should get some rest. The Archdemon isn’t here, yet. And we can speak more of this tomorrow.” She said, her hand rubbing at her forehead. Cullen knew she was worried about Iron Bull.

Leliana also read the woman’s body language, the Spy Master astute in her observations as always. “I have already prepared three birds to be sent to the caravan. They only await your written message.”

The Inquisitor looked up at the woman, her eyes tired, her face drawn with worry. “Thank you.” She muttered, turning from the table and leaving the room without another word.

“You should take a bath, Commander. You smell awful.” Leliana said, smiling at him softly before walking around the table and heading towards the door itself. The room was starting to darken with sunset.

Cullen’s eyebrows drew together and he scratched at his neck. His skin was tight and itchy with the dried blood, sweat, and road dust that had gathered on any exposed flesh. A bath would be most welcome.

As he stepped out of the room, heading towards the lower levels of the keep. As he walked through the nearly empty great hall, his eyes cast about, looking for Dorian. He wanted to speak with the other, ask how he was feeling, about what had transpired inside the temple. But the mage was missing, and Cullen hummed in thought as he stepped out the wide doors to the courtyards, heading towards the paths that lead beneath SkyHold.

There was a small chamber where a pool of water carved into the stone lay warmed to a pleasant temperature beneath from geothermal activity. It was generally frowned upon to use soap inside the pool itself something about the cleaning agent causing a scum to build on the water surface. Buckets sat nearby for washing and scrubbing brushes near a pile of handmade lye soap. The cleaning area near to a small stream of cold water that diverted directly to the roaring river that rushed underneath SkyHold’s belly.

There was also a table of thin towels folded neatly and replenished when needed by the laundry servants.

Cullen removed his plate armor, glancing at it in mild disgust as he set it gently down nearby. It would need to be washed, and mended. The shoulder where he’d taken the hit for Dorian was badly dented, and there were new scratched marring the surface. The fur along the collar was matted with blood and viscera. He would take it to the laundry women after his bath.

Surprisingly (or not so surprising when Cullen noted it was Leliana who told him to bathe) there was a clean set of his clothing set neatly nearby the table of towels. Cullen smiled, happy to know he at least wouldn’t have to put his dirty ones back on before he trekked back to his tower.

His feet slapped against the cool carved stone floor, damp from the nearby pool. His clothes were tossed into a basket set aside for whoever was using the room. Cullen sighed as he reached down, touching the hot water of the pool. He stood, shaking his fingers off, walking in the buff over to the buckets, where he pulled a little warm water, mixing it with the cold water of the stream, and began the slow and torturous process of cleaning the grime and filth of battle and the road from himself.

He was nearly done with his first leg when there was a soft knock at the door.

“This room is occupied.” He called out, continuing to scrub at the skin of his upper thigh.

The door creaked slightly, it’s hinges rusted from the humid air, as a person pushed their way in.

“I don’t need assistance!” Cullen snapped, looking up at whoever was coming in.

“I know.” Dorian said, his lips quirked into a great smile as he watched the other man squatting near the bucket.

“Maker’s Breath!” Cullen shouted, quickly covering his private area with his hands, his scrubbing brush falling to the side as he did so. “What are you doing! Get out, I am not decent!”

Dorian snickered slightly, moving into the room further and closing the door gently behind him. “Leliana said you might need help, since you were starting to... What was it she said... Oh yes, smell of rotting bronto dung.”

Cullen just glared at the other man, death imminent in his gaze. “I don’t need assistance. And I don’t smell of... bronto dung.”

Dorian’s hand wave in front of his face and he started walking over towards Cullen, his boots splashing a little in the puddles on the stone floor. “Don’t worry, nothing you have would shock me. I’ve seen it all.” He said, coming closer and kneeling down, picking up the scrubbing brush that Cullen had dropped.

“I don’t need help...” His voice trailed off. The sight of the other man him reminded him of the terror he had felt every time he’d flipped a body over in the temple, holding his breath, hoping it wasn’t going to be Dorian’s wide, lifeless, staring eyes looking back at him.

Dorian knelt near him, one hand clutching the soap, the other the brush. He watched Cullen quietly for a moment. “If you truly wish... I’ll leave.” He finally said, his lips in a small frown, brows drawn together in pain.

“I... If you could just... Get my back.” He finally said, turning slightly to face away from Dorian, a blush heating his cheeks.

“Of course.” Dorian said softly, and Cullen sighed as he felt the cool slip of soap across his back and then the rough circling of the brush. He groaned slightly as Dorian brushed a little too hard on a bruise that purpled his lower ribs. The man slowed his ministrations, setting the brush aside to gently caress the other’s bruised ribs. “I’m happy you’ve returned.” The man said finally, once more picking up the brush and resuming the circling strokes along Cullen’s back and shoulders. “I was... quite worried, honestly.”

Cullen sat staring at the stone floor, his fingers gripping his own arms tightly. He didn’t say anything back to Dorian’s admission, instead focusing on the way the brush moved, tight circles around and around on his back. Finally the other man set the brush aside, and his fingers slipped up the back of Cullen’s neck to begin lathering soap into his hair.

The soap dripped, grungy grey and pink from the dirt and blood caked along Cullen’s scalp as it was washed away by the gentle, firm pressure the other man applied. Neither spoke, the cool, damp air of the room heavy between them.

“I thought you had died.” Cullen finally admitted as Dorian’s hands fell from his head, dipping into the bucket next to him to rinse. Tears pricked at his eyes, the fear once more gripping his chest remembering searching, crying out the names of the companions lost in the temple. And not getting an answering call back. The other was silent for a moment, his fingers slipping slickly along Cullen’s broad shoulders his arms wrapping around the other. Dorian’s cheek pressing against the side of Cullen’s own as he hugged him from behind.

“You’re getting your clothes wet.” Cullen finally said after a moment, his fingers gripping Dorian’s slender wrists around his shoulders.

Dorian chuckled low. “I can always get naked for you.” He whispered.

Cullen’s cheeks flamed hot and he scoffed in embarrassment. He pushed the other man away, reaching back and grabbing up the discarded bar of soap. He rinsed off the grungy scum from the top and began to rub the soap along his chest and arms.

Dorian sat back on his heels, watching Cullen continue to clean the grime from the road off of himself. Both were quiet as Cullen scrubbed hard with the brush along his arms and chest. Finally the warrior began to clean his face, removing the crusted grime from his grown out beard.

“Are you keeping the facial hair? I rather think it’s dashing.” Dorian said, as Cullen rinsed his face in the bucket, removing the soap before beginning the process of dumping the bucket of water over himself to wash away the rest of the soap from himself.

“No.” Cullen answered, swiping along his chest. He stood up, long, muscular legs shaking out after squatting for so long. The soapy water dripped and slipped down his body to the carved drainage rivulets in the stone to wash away with the cold water to the river below.

“Why not? It’s not like you keep clean shaven.” Dorian stood as well, shrugging as Cullen glanced at him over his shoulder.

“Do not tell me how to groom, and I shall not tell you to get rid of that ridiculous mustache.” Cullen’s hand covered his privates as he turned and walked away towards the hot bathing waters.

Dorian laughed loudly watching as Cullen tried his best to keep any semblance of self pride as he dipped into the water. “Would you like me to go get you a razor?” He asked, grinning down as Cullen sighed in content with the hot water lapping up along his collar bone.

“Would you? And some cream... Please.”

Dorian smiled lopsidedly down at him, standing above the other sunken into the pool. “Yes.” He said, stepping away. His clothing was damp along the front but he didn’t seem to mind as he walked out of the room in search of the face razor.

As the door slid shut, Cullen slipped under the water, his hands running through the hair on his head, and down the scruffy beard on his face. He could get a full beard, but it grew out awkwardly, wanting to grow in every direction possible. Nothing like the magnificent specimen Blackwall was capable of maintaining.

Returning to the surface, Cullen leaned back, his arms resting along the edges of the stone pool, his head falling back. A brief moment of respite from the utter horror of war. The wound on his eyebrow burned slightly, the scab having been pulled away a little. But it didn’t bleed and Cullen was at least thankful for that.

It was silent except for the occasional echo of footsteps along the pathway outside of the bathing rooms. Cullen was quickly slipping into a light slumber when the door opened again, Dorian shutting the door gently behind him. He had a small cup of white fluffy shaving cream and a freshly sharpened facial razor in hand.

Cullen jerked back awake, blinking rapidly as his hand once more covered his private area. Dorian just rolled his eyes and set the cup and razor off to the side. He was beginning to remove his clothing when Cullen sat up right and make a strangled noise.

“What are you doing?” He asked, once more blushing in embarrassment.

“I was going to join you.”

“I don’t really need any more help.”

Dorian shrugged, his lower lip pursing out and a look of ‘I don’t really care’ on his face. The other man continued to remove his boots, his hands quickly working the buckles along the waist of his shirt.

“Dorian!” Cullen said sharply, his hand gripping tightly on his groin in shock.

“I need a bath as well. Two birds, one stone, as they say” He said, the shirt falling from his muscled shoulders to pile on the damp floor. The darker skinned man picked up the shirt, placing it on the back of the chair. Dorian’s pants fell with a soft ‘puff’ to the ground, the man kicking them off and laying them neatly next to his shirt.

Cullen’s eyes widened and he turned away quickly as the now nude mage unabashedly walked over, razor and cream in hand, and stepped into the pool of water.

“You would never survive a bath house in Minrathous.” The mage said, his lips pulled back in an amused grin. “Do you have bath houses in Fereldan?” He asked, settling down into the hot water.

“N-no. We generally allow each other privacy when we’re bathing.”

“Ah... maybe that’s why everyone there smells of wet dog. You don’t bathe enough.”

“I do not smell of-” Cullen paused, glowering at the other man sitting opposite him. The Cheshire cat grin cast from the tanned face just heated Cullen’s irritation.

The shaving cream and razor were set to the side as Dorian slipped under the water to rub at his head vigorously. The other came back up, blowing water from his lips and smoothing his hair back from his face. The usually perfectly maintained updo was pushed back from the man’s high forehead, the black hair slicked along his scalp like fresh oil. Grey eyes blinked widely at Cullen.

The ex-templar shifted uncomfortably as he glanced about for a hand mirror. One sat near the towels, and Cullen debated getting up and grabbing it. But the way Dorian was watching him gave him pause at the idea of getting out of the water. He turned, hands still cupped over his groin, looking back at the un-apologetically nude Altus. The un-apologetically nude Altus that was grinning at him with a hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Here. Let me.” Dorian said, his tone full of mirth as the other picked up the shaving cream and razor, the other’s tanned body sliding through the water easily as he moved closer to Cullen.

Panic thrummed in Cullen’s throat and he swallowed hard as he eyed the razor in the other’s hand, looking back at Dorian’s now softened facial features.

“I won’t hurt you. I’ve done this before.”

“On another man?” Cullen asked, pressing back against the stone pool behind him as Dorian came even closer. The other’s leg brushed against Cullen’s own and Cullen stepped his foot away, his legs spreading unintentionally as Dorian slid even closer.

The other man stopped, kneeling on the bottom of the pool between Cullen’s spread legs, eyes searching the other’s face as if he were actually asking. “Of course.” He said.

Cullen’s jaw worked furiously and he glanced away from the searching grey eyes to look at the soft fluffy white cream in the cup. He felt almost trapped. But it wasn’t a trap he was entirely sure he wanted to escape. The water lapped midway at Dorian’s chest, and the other waited patiently for Cullen to finally acquiesce, a slight nod towards him.

The razor was set aside and long fingers scooped at the cup of shaving cream, gently brushing along the short beard growing on Cullen’s jaw and cheeks. It was thick, and smelled faintly of mint as Dorian finished covering the hair along his face.

“Keep the mustache? Always a good choice, in my opinion.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed.

“Very well.” The other said, his cocky smirk back as he lifted the razor to begin ever so gently dragging the sharp metal along Cullen’s cheek. Fingers were gentle as they held his head steady, the razors edge making soft scraping sounds as it cut through the rough hair. Dorian finished with his cheeks and around his mouth, the air wrapping cool along the freshly bared skin. Fingers were gentle as they tilted Cullen’s head back to get at the hair growing under his chin and along his throat.

The razor was sharp enough to end his life, Cullen admired the care Dorian took to not cut his skin. And he was surprised he didn’t feel afraid. A year ago, he would never have let the man come within a ten foot radius of him. And now the mage was dragging a razors edge gently along Cullen’s pulse point.

“A job well done, if I do say so myself.” Dorian said admiringly, the razor rinsed and placed to the side next to the empty cup on the edge of the tub.

Cullen lifted his hands, splashing great handfuls of water to wash away the rest of the cream. He watched as it melted away into the hot water. The water was replenished naturally from the nearby river, some engineering ingenuity had ensured that it was constantly moving, hot water coming in one side of the pool, and leaving the other side. If it became necessary the entire pool could be plugged up and drained.

Hands gripped his thighs and Cullen came back from his musing thoughts about plumbing, his eyes wide as he looked back at Dorian still kneeling in front of him. But now the man’s hands were settled against his thighs, the other’s eyes hooded as they looked over Cullen’s freshly shaven face.

“Thank you.” Cullen said, his heart beginning to beat rapidly in his chest. “I... should probably... get out.”

“Why?” Dorian asked, his voice breathy, grey eyes dark with lust glanced back up into Cullen’s own honey-brown ones.

Cullen swallowed thickly, his breath shaky. “Because I am clean now....”

Dorian’s head tilted to the side and he slid closer still, his hips dangerously close to Cullen’s own. “Stay. Please.” The other’s voice was soft, breathy. “I just want... To be near you for a little while.” Dorian’s eyes moved over to Cullen’s now healed shoulder. There was only a greenish bruise left from where the broken bone had been. One hand lifted from where it had settled on Cullen’s thigh to reach up and touch the damp skin stretched tight over the collar bone.

_’Dorian! Cassandra!’ Cullen had cried, his voice crackling with the strain of his constant calling. ‘Solas!... Inquisitor!’_

_There, in the corner was a hunched body, dark hair and skin a familiar copper color. Cullen rushed over, heart pounding in fear as he kneeled beside the body and rolled it over._

_Not him. Thank the Maker._

_’Doriaaan!’_

Cullen’s jaw worked and he finally nodded, his hands lifting from the water to grip the other’s shoulders, feeling the strength beneath the taut skin. He gasped in slight surprise as Dorian pressed close, his face tucking into Cullen’s neck, arms wrapping tightly around Cullen’s shoulder.

“I was so scared.” The other whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Cullen’s arms wrapped around Dorian’s chest, pulling the other man close. His thighs gripped Dorian’s waist and he pressed a soft kiss against the caramel colored skin. “Me, too.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been rough for us all lately, a little more fluff never hurts. ToT

Dorian sat on a bench in the gardens. It was a warm late summer afternoon, everyone was both busy and at the same time, not busy. They were waiting for the final shoe to drop, so to speak. It was tense around the keep. Everyone had one eye cast to the sky at all times, watching, waiting for a great Archdemon to come swooping down at any moment.

Dorian was holding the small coin Cullen had given him, his fingers brushing along the edges of the smooth metal. He rubbed it absent mindedly along his lower lip, his eyes staring off into the distance, his mind whirling with the events he’d been part of over the past year.

A small smile quirked the edges of his lips as he remembered the long bath he’d taken with the Commander the night previous. The other had even allowed Dorian to kiss his cheek with only a small protest, but had eventually disentangled from Dorian and left to return to his own quarters. It had taken everything in him not to pursue the blonde back to the tower, instead returning to his own room.

Dorian lifted the small coin from where it rested on his lower lip, holding it up to look at the worn design. A lucky coin indeed.

“Where did you get that?”

Dorian jumped slightly, turning to look at the Spy Master lingering beside the bench. “It was a gift.” He said, his fingers closing around the coin protectively.

“I see.” She said, moving to stand in front of him. “A very thoughtful gift.”

Dorian watched her apprehensively, his fist closing tighter around the coin. “Yes, it was.”

Leliana nodded slightly towards him, her arms crossed over her chest. There was no smile on her lips, her eyes stared at him, searching his face. “Tell me, Dorian. What do you plan on doing after this has all ended?” She asked.

“I... had planned on going back to Tevinter, eventually.” Panic gripped his chest. He hadn’t told anyone that, but trying to keep secrets from Leliana was like trying to stop water from escaping through a sieve.

She didn’t say anything, those all knowing, all seeing blue eyes not moving from Dorian’s face. “Well... We have plenty left to do still. But I will be sorry to see you go.”

He just smiled at the woman and nodded as she turned and left. “Don’t forget to enjoy the sunshine!” He called after her, the coin rolling over the tops of his fingers. She gave a small wave and continued off to enter through a side door, most likely headed to speak with Josephine.

The sun was beginning to set by the time Dorian stood up from the bench. Mother Giselle had tried to have a conversation with him, and while he didn’t exactly hate the woman, he most certainly didn’t like her. So he’d just made random comments to her pious rambling until she figured out he wasn’t in a talking mood and had wandered off to go... Do whatever her kind did when they weren’t praying or doing their best to make him feel guilty.

Dorian was slowly walking back in after a couple hours of soaking in the late afternoon sun, his cheeks pink from the warmth. There was a commotion coming from the courtyards below and Dorian paused near Gatsi and a group of nobles that stared wonderingly at the front door as a small scout came running in.

“More have returned!” The young boy cried, clearly riding on the wave of excitement.

Dorian pushed past a couple of the nobles and couldn’t help but smile as a large pair of hooked horns came up the stairs. Iron Bull walked in through the doors, his wide chest bandaged, arm in a sling and strapped to his side. The big qunari stopped and looked around at the crowd, his eye blinking in surprise as everyone stared at him. And Sera coming bouncing up after him, followed by Varric, Vivienne, Cole, and Blackwall.

Some had bruises, but Iron Bull clearly had taken the brunt of the damage done to the companions.

There was a shout from the far of the great hall and Dorian turned to watch as Trevelyan came out of the Undercroft, her small form quickly turning and rushing down the hall to crash against the large qunari warrior.

“Bull!” The Inquisitor shouted, jumping high up, her legs wrapping around the other’s waist. The qunari’s good arm wrapped around the woman’s hips, and his lips stretched into a large grin as tiny kisses were pecked over his cheeks.

“Kadan! Careful, people are going to realize you’re a softy!”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I was so worried-” Her words became muffled as she buried her face against the qunari’s thickly muscled neck. The other began to walk with his armload of Inquisitor towards the woman’s private chambers.

Nobles were gasping, their hands covering their whispers as they watched the display.

“Yes, shocking how she could ever love a beast!” Dorian said, his arms over his chest as he glared at the muttering mass.

“Sparkler! We were worried about you.” Varric said, his short, stout form pushed through the now separating crowd. “Well, some of us more than others.” The dwarf muttered, winking at him. “You went through one of those creepy mirrors huh?”

Dorian shrugged at Varric and rubbed his fingers thoughtfully over his chin. “It was very strange, I’d of course read about such elven artifacts, but to actually use one...”

Varric made a comical shudder. “Creepy shit. I mean, it wasn’t fun fighting hoards of angry Venatori, or those weird spitting Templar things... But.” Varric shrugged. “We made it back!”

“And that’s all we ask for, Varric.”

“Where’s the Seeker?” The dwarf asked, glancing around the large hall.

“I honestly don’t know.” Dorian glanced down at the dwarf. Varric acted gruff and angry when he spoke with Casssandra, but Dorian had a distinct impression that the other enjoyed the Seeker’s company. “You have that new chapter for her?” The mage asked, his lips smirking.

“Not yet.” Varric turned and walked away, his hands palm up stretched out to his side. “I’ll make sure to have you one printed too.”

“Please save your ink.” Dorian quipped back. Most of the other companions, realizing that the Inquisitor was now occupied, had wandered off, some in search of food, others for baths.

Cole, however, was standing, staring at Dorian with wide unblinking eyes.

“Cole.” Dorian drawled out, frowning slightly as he approached the young man.

“I can see your colors blending.” He said. Ever since the Inquisitor had done that strange ritual that Solas had insisted on, the boy had become... weirder.

“Ah, I see. Yes, if you aren’t careful to keep your red scarves separated from your white under things, you’re sure to end up with pink socks.”

“His colors were so dark compared to yours. But now they shine brighter, as if you had painted yours upon him . He seems... Happier. You... Seem... Happier.”

Dorian stared at Cole with wide wondering eyes. “Uh huh.”

“Where is the Inquisitor?”

“She is... currently indisposed. Come, I heard the barn cat had kittens the other day.” Dorian reached over to touch Cole’s shoulder gently, leading the other towards the door back outside.

“What are kittens?” Cole was still staring at him, even as they walked down the stairs.

“Oh, you’ll quite enjoy them.”

That evening, Varric had wrangled most of the companions up, bringing them to the tavern for drinks and a few hands of wicked grace. It was pleasant, pleasurable. Even when Sera had one too many cups and passed out under the table.

But the best part, Dorian had to admit, was watching Josephine utterly trounce Cullen at cards.

Varric was chuckling. “I tried to warn you, Curly.”

“Never bet against an Antivan, Commander.” Josephine was quite pleased with herself, and the entire table laughed loudly as Cullen sat in his full nude glory, face a bright tomato red.

Cassandra got up, muttering something about not wanting to watch Cullen’s walk of shame. Varric left behind the Seeker, glancing back and giving one last chuckle towards the Commander. The rest also filed away, Iron Bull giving a large slap to the back of Cullen’s naked back as they left.

Finally it was only Dorian and Cullen left. Even the bard had gone to allow the other man some privacy as he got redressed into his clothing.

Cullen stared at him, his face still flushed red with embarrassment.

Dorian, grin stretching wide, stared back. “What?” He finally asked.

“You can leave now.” Cullen gruffed out, shifting uncomfortably on the wooden bench.

“Oh, please. It’s not like I haven’t seen it.” He shrugged, his grin fading into a wide smirk.

Cullen sputtered loudly, his legs crossing over themselves. “You better keep your eyes to yourself!”

Dorian sighed and stood up, stretching up above his head. He sighed and turned his back to the other man, allowing him to grab his pants and shirt from a nearby chair they had been neatly placed upon. After a few minutes, Dorian glanced back over his shoulder as the other man was gathering up his coat to pull it on.

“Shall we go for a walk?” Dorian asked, turning back towards the ex-Templar.

“I think I’ve had enough excitement for the evening.” Cullen cleared his throat nervously as he buckled his coat on and picked up his ever present sword. His cheeks were still pink, and Dorian found it entirely too charming. “Good night, Dorian.” He said, tilting his head slightly towards the mage and then heading for the door of the empty tavern.

“May I...?”

Cullen stopped mid stride and looked back at Dorian. He seemed thoughtful as he pondered the other’s unfinished question. “I...”

“The world may be ending, Commander.” Dorian purred, moving closer to the other. He was feeling emboldened by the episode in the bathing tub as well Cole’s cryptic message earlier.

Cullen’s cheeks once more flushed a bright pink, the tips of his ears turning red. He made a slight huffing sound and turned away. “I wish to sleep. You must promise not to engage me in a ridiculous conversation.”

Dorian grinned and stepped lightly behind the warrior as he left the building and headed up the stairs towards his tower.

It was a cool evening and Dorian winked at a guard that saluted as the two men stepped past him. The door to the tower creaked slightly and Cullen held the door open for Dorian after stepping into the gloomy dark interior.

“And here we are, once more.” Dorian said, stepping back as Cullen began to remove the coat he’d just put back on. “You could have just carried it up.” Cullen just glanced over at him, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Unless you didn’t want questions being asked by your adoring recruits!”

Cullen just snorted and placed his sword down, leaning it against the side of the desk. He headed towards the ladder, climbing up smoothly, leaving Dorian down in the lower part of the tower. Dorian walked over, touching the matted fur of the coat.

“This thing is disgusting. Why has it not been cleaned yet?” He asked, turning and heading up the ladder after the blonde man.

“They were busy in the laundry, and Harritt is making the Inquisitor some new armor with the dragon scales she collected.”

Dorian peeked over the edge of the floor boards and watched as Cullen slipped his boots off, setting them neatly at the end of the bed. The other man reached for his shirt, pulling it up and off, tossing it haphazardly to the side of the room. Dorian’s smirk grew into a grin and slowly climbed the rest of the way up the ladder.

“I wonder if there would be enough for everyone to have dragon scale armor. I mean, we’ve killed near a dozen of the beasts.” He kicked off his own boots, letting them fall next to Cullen’s boots. “I think I’d look rather dashing in a new pair of dragon leather breeches, don’t you?” Dorian asked, posing slightly as Cullen fell to the bed with a soft ‘fwump’ sound.

“Mm.” Was the only response.

“ ‘Oh, of course, Dorian.’ ” Dorian made his voice deeper, slightly mockingly. “ ‘You’d look very handsome in a tailored dragon scale suit, I’ll speak to Harrit about it first thing in the morning.’ Why, thank you, amatus! I do rather look dashing in greens, if you could just mention that to the man, as well.”

Cullen was doing his best to not smile as he watched Dorian pace a little back and forth near the end of the bed. “Hm. I’ll put it on the itinerary.”

“Don’t forget! Green. Although, really, I look good in any color.” Dorian’s fingers quickly worked on the buckles of his shirt, removing it swiftly. He glanced at the other man laying on his back. Cullen’s eyes were closed, a small smile on his face. Climbing into the bed, he quickly slipped close to the other, his lips pressing warm against Cullen’s cheek. “My, you have a wonderful barber as well, such a smooth shave!”

Cullen sighed and turned his head away, but didn’t protest or complain at the show of affection. It was a remarkable turn of events, one the Dorian was quite pleased about. He snuggled closer to the other, one arm slipping under the man’s waist, his other hand resting against the taut belly. He laid his cheek against Cullen’s chest, humming in content as Cullen’s arm wrapped around his own shoulders, strong calloused fingers wrapping protectively over his upper arm.

“It’s good everyone made it back so quickly.” Cullen murmured into the dark.

“The Inquisitor was quite pleased to see Iron Bull.”

There was a soft chuckle that rumbled through the broad chest, and Dorian smiled as he moved his hand up to lay against the pale, hair dappled skin of Cullen’s chest. He could feel the strong beat of his heart, hear the deep pull of air into the others lungs.

“Leliana mentioned you were going back to Tevinter.” Cullen said after a few minutes of quiet.

Dorian’s cheeks flushed and his heart skipped a beat. “Eventually, yes.” He admitted, glancing up at the other’s face. But Cullen’s expression was passive, his eyes closed, lips unmoving. Neither said anything for what felt an hour. “I mean, I won’t be leaving right away, of course!” Dorian chimed in, suddenly feeling a pang of panic at the other’s silence.

“Of course.” Cullen agreed, his face still unmoving.

Dorian lifted his head slightly, watching Cullen in the faded moonlight. Finally brown eyes opened and Cullen’s head turned to look back at him.

“What?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to... well, say something. I just...”

Cullen snorted softly in what sounded amusement and his face turned back towards the ceiling. A small smile curved his scarred lips. “I am not your keeper, Dorian. What you do after all of this does not concern me.”

Dorian’s eyebrows drew together. “Ouch.”

Cullen’s eyes flew open and he lifted his head to look at Dorian as the mage pulled away. “I-I didn’t mean-” He stuttered.

Dorian sighed and leaned back slightly, resting on his elbow. He watched Cullen closely, his lips pursing into a thoughtful expression, his heart aching at the other's response. “I know.” He said finally, eyes searching the other’s face. Cullen’s head fell back to his pillow and he groaned slightly, his hand not trapped under Dorian’s side rubbing at his face. Dorian licked his lips and moved back closer to the other man, leaning in to press his mouth against the edge of the other’s own.

Cullen grunted, pulling away from him slightly. It didn’t sting the way it had before, Dorian was growing used to the other’s shyness at showing affection. And he would accept the little inches he could take.

Laying his head back down on Cullen’s chest, Dorian’s fingers played with the light dusting of hair along the strong pectorals. The callous roughened hand returned to his arm, the fingers gently moving against his skin, akin to the way Cole had gently petted the kittens in the barn.

The music of the Veil played gently, and Dorian fell into a soft slumber, dreaming of colors that swirled together.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is confronted with what he's known all along.
> 
> And they come to the end.
> 
> But it's not truly the end for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, having a hard time focusing on things with everything going on in the world currently. So if there's more typos than usual, I apologize.
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe in this tumultuous time.

The Inquisitor and a band of her closest companions, Iron Bull, Cassandra, and Solas, had left with the Witch of the Wilds to go to some altar of Mythal. They were to return within a couple days, if all went well. It wasn’t known exactly what the woman was supposed to be finding out in the middle of the wilderness but Morrigan had been insistent that it was important, saying that the voices were drawing her to the forgotten altar.

Cullen had increased the guard rotation on the walls, Leliana had scouts constantly out and searching the wilderness for any signs of the missing Magister of Old. No one had seen or heard of Corypheus in days and it was making everyone extremely nervous. Leliana had even given the Inquisitor her favorite messenger raven in case the woman needed help of any kind.

The army was beginning to trickle back into the keep, but most of the roving caravan had been waylaid by a large rainstorm that had lasted three days, creating hazardous conditions and forcing the largest part of the group to stop and wait for the roads to dry up enough for passage.

Cullen walked along the ramparts, the sun was warm against his back. His coat was being repaired by Harritt. The laundry women had been kind enough to take his coat early one morning, cleaning it thoroughly before they had taken it to the forge master.

‘I can do a nice job of fixing this up. Might need to replace this shoulder.’ The man had said, his gruff demeanor offset by the way he looked at the coat with an appreciative eye.

Cullen had agreed, and had to wave Dagna off when she had oo’ed and aa’ed over the metal work, her suggestions of multiple “enhancements” making Cullen a little nervous.

‘Just the repair. Please.’ He’d begged.

There was a soft wind that blew against Cullen’s back, ruffling his hair as he stared out over the expanse of the mountains. A few strands tumbled against his brow. Another hair cut was soon in his future. It had been some time since he’d had the curls trimmed, and they were constantly falling along his forehead and tickling along his neck.

There was movement to his side and Cullen glanced over from the corner of his eye, his lips pulling into a soft smile as he noted it was Dorian joining him.

“I saw you from the window of the library, and decided that you needed some company.” The other man leaned against the stone wall, resting against his forearms. His grey eyes looked up at Cullen but the Commander continued to look out over the mountains, musing over how they’d seemed almost impassable less than a year earlier. “You look very regal. Are you sure you aren’t related to the royal family? I swear, you have their nose.”

Cullen slowly turned his head and looked down said nose at the other man. “If there is royal blood in my veins, it is only a bastard’s line.”

Dorian shrugged nonchalantly and turned to look back out over the scenery. There was already snow building upon that which hadn’t melted over the warm summer. “I’ll be happy to never see snow again.”

Cullen glanced out of the corner of his eye once more towards the mage. “You don’t like snow?”

“It’s cold. I detest the cold.”

Cullen chuckled and moved forward to place his hands on the top of the wall, leaning forward a little to lean against it. “I enjoy the snow.” He said thoughtfully, wondering about what it must be like to live in a place that never had the changing seasons of Fereldan.

“Yes, well. With the fact that you burn as hot as red coals when you sleep, I can imagine so.” Dorian smiled up at him but Cullen just rolled his eyes slightly.

“You are welcome to sleep in your own quarters.”

“Perish the thought. You would be lonely without me pestering you every now and then.” Dorian had spent three nights curled up at Cullen’s side. It was almost something that Cullen looked forward to. He had to admit he enjoyed waking early, laying in the still dark while listening to bird song and the very faint sound of a snore from the mage.

“I would miss your snoring.” Cullen said, his lips quirking into a smirk.

“I don’t snore!” Dorian quipped back, standing up right next to the blonde man and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, but you do.” Cullen said back, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “Every morning I’m woken by you sawing logs.” One shoulder shrugged upward, his smirk gone for a straight face.

Dorian’s cheeks were bright red and he sputtered in protest. Cullen almost was able to keep his lips from creeping back upwards in mirth at the other’s look of indignation. But it honestly just too amusing, and adorable, for him to keep his gambling face in place.

“You’re lying to me!” Dorian cried. “You’ve been practicing your Wicked Grace face I see.”

“I am not lying.” Cullen chuckled and started walking along the battlements, heading off back towards his tower.

Dorian sputtered irately again, but the soft scuff of his boots following along behind Cullen was enough for the ex-Templar to know he wasn’t truly angry. They both walked into the office, Cullen moving to go to his desk. He had taken a small break from his reading to take the walk, but now he knew it was imperative to continue his research into the Grey Warden texts Leliana had been able to procure about Archdemons. Most of it was vague, the Wardens kept their secrets well guarded.

“I need to speak with Blackwall.” He finally said, picking up a page of hastily scrawled notes from his readings. Brown eyes flicked up to look at Dorian on the opposite side of the desk, the man scanning through the volumes laying open on the wooden surface.

“Blackwall?” Dorian said, looking up at him. “He’s not a real warden. You know this.” The man retorted.

“He may still be able to help piece together some of this for me. Leliana has been helpful in a few regards, but the more I read about this the more I wonder... Even she does not know everything that transpired with the Hero of Fereldan.” Cullen folded his paper neatly and turned once more towards the door.

“Well... There are kittens in the barn.”

Cullen looked over his shoulder at the Tevinter. “I’m not asking you to come with me.” His eyebrows drew together.

“Maybe not, but I have nothing better to do for the time being. All this waiting... It’s getting a little boring, honestly.”

“Do you feel the need to shadow me?” Cullen asked, beginning to jog down the steps, past the Herald’s Rest and into the lower courtyards.

“I’m merely lending moral support!” Dorian stated.

Cullen hummed as he walked through the large lower courtyard. The merchants were busy doing business with few soldiers and nobles, some waved to him, calling out about their newest and greatest swords, sword oils, and armor. Some called to Dorian about hair pomade, new staves, one shouting he’d gotten in more of that ‘nice smooth paper’.

They walked past them all, Cullen keeping his shoulders upright and back straight. He hadn’t brought any coin with him anyway, even if the thought of new under armor padding was tempting, especially with the quickly falling temperatures.

“Blackwall, I have a few questions...” Cullen approached the bearded man, waving his paper of notes towards him.

They spoke at length but the other man’s knowledge was as limited as Cullen’s own, neither able to understand what it was about the Warden’s rituals that allowed them to kill an Archdemon. As Blackwall, or rather Thom Rainer, had never undergone the ritual, he wasn’t as helpful as Cullen had hoped. Not that he had hoped for much, but since the man had indeed been traveling with the true Blackwall, Cullen had thought perhaps the other had been given a little more insight.

Cullen thanked him and was turning to go when noticed Dorian sitting in the corner with Cole, both holding small kittens in their hands. Dorian was smoothing down the hair gently on the top of one ginger kitten’s head, Cole patting a tiger stripped body smaller than the palm of his hand.

“They’re small.” The spirit said, his eyes wide as he looked up at Cullen. “And they bring many people joy.” The kitten was peeping in his hand, it’s little blue eyes squinting as it wiggled about on the boy’s palm.

The mother cat was purring contentedly nearby, three other kittens tucked against her side in the deep bed of straw and blankets the servants had made for them.

Cullen squatted down next to the mage, reaching out one hand to touch the small kitten cupped in Dorian’s palm. It was warm, and felt so fragile as his fingers ran along the tiny spine. The kitten mewled faintly, turning it’s bobbling head to look back at Dorian and Cullen.

“The Inquisitor said I should name one for myself.” Cole said, his eyes staring at Cullen and Dorian.

“What would you name it?” Dorian asked, gently placing the small orange kitten back against it’s mother’s side.

“Iron Bull said I should name her Dreadnought.”

Cullen grinned as Dorian barked out an amused laugh. “Yes! She certainly does strike fear into the hearts of sailors!”

Cole’s face fell slightly as he looked back down at the small creature.

“You should name her whatever you feel is appropriate.” Blackwall said, coming over to stand near the group of men around the kittens. “Such as Griffon.” His gruffed, causing another round of amused smirks to circle between them.

Cole was staring at the small creature, giving it a few more pets along it’s small body before he set it down gently next to it’s mother as well. “They are hungry.” He said faintly.

“As am I.” Blackwall began to walk out of the barn, heading towards his usual nightly haunt of the Herald’s Rest. Him and Sera had become regular hooligans in the tavern, along with the mercenary band it was a well known rowdy spot in the evening.

Cole continued to sit next to the kitten, but his eyes watched as Cullen stood up, his hand reaching down to assist Dorian in standing as well.

“You shine brighter.” He stated, his eyes lingering upon the Commander.

Cullen’s eyebrows drew together and frowned at the spirit boy. “What?” He asked, feeling uneasy at the other’s words.

“When you are together. You shine brighter. Dorian... Makes your pain go away.”

Cullen’s face heated up with a blush and he quickly pulled his hand away from Dorian after the other man had stood up completely.

“Okay, Cole. I think they have some left over tarts and tea in the kitchens.” Dorian said, stepping away from Cullen.

“Why are you sad?” Cole asked, directing the question towards the mage. He stood up and walked beside Dorian as the other left. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, of course not. Just maybe... Don’t always say what you’re thinking. It can make people uncomfortable.” Dorian was saying as the two walked away.

Cullen swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and he looked down at the paper of notes now crumpled up in his sweating hands. It was true. He did feel much more at ease, _brighter_ , when he was with Dorian. He hadn’t really thought about it until after the Arbor Wilds. He hadn’t faced the emotions straight on either. Instead allowing himself to slowly ease into the emotions that had slowly been filling the deep aching chasm of his heart.

It was difficult for him to let others in. And he never had even thought he could have these emotions for another man. It was strange, the way the other had wiggled and persisted his way to Cullen’s side. Even when he had been angry and cruel, the mage had still pushed his way forward, as if he drawn to Cullen by an unseen force.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Cullen walked out of the barn. He stared at the vendors along the walk way, the people mingling under the great wall of the keep. His fingers tore at the sweat damp crumpled paper, dropping bits along the muddy ground at his feet.

Turning to his right, Cullen quickly headed up the stairs leading into the kitchens. A tart and a cup of tea sounded nice. And even the Commander deserved a treat every now and then.

Cullen’s cheeks were warm with a slight blush as he chuckled at a rather uncouth joke Sera was telling. Something about a woman’s under things and her inability to keep them from wrapping around men’s heads. He sipped at his tankard of ale, trying his best to not continually glance over at the laughing Altus sitting across from him.

Blackwall lifted his own drink towards the center of the small group of people. “Hear, hear! To the greatest use of underwear I’ve ever heard of!” The group all laughed loudly, their cups tapping together.

The Inquisitor and the others had returned a few hours before, and after bathing and eating had joined the few companions inside the tavern itself.

“Oh, I’ve got a tale!” Iron Bull said, and Cullen smirked as Krem made a slightly disgusted noise, his eyes rolling.

“Not the one I’m thinking of, Chief. Especially not in front of your lady.” The Tevinter mercenary quipped.

Trevelyan’s eyes widened and she looked at Bull as the qunari grunted and agreed with Krem. “What story?” She asked, her voice taking a slightly angry tone.

“Oh... You know, now that I think about it, I can barely even remember half of it.” Iron Bull said, scratching at the back of his head, awkwardly not making eye contact with the suddenly bristling woman.

“I’ll tell one!” Dorian said, standing up from his seat. He paced slightly, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “There once was a man from Minrathous!” He started, and Krem groaned loudly again.

“Oh for the love of the Maker, no!” He cried, but the giant grin on his face contradicted his plee for the other to stop.

Dorian laughed loudly, his hand slapping against his leg. Krem also began to laugh, the two Tevinter’s nearly rolling in their mirth at a joke that no one else seemed to know the ending to. But the laughter was contagious and everyone else also chuckled along with the two guffawing men.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t remember the rest either.” Dorian chirruped, sitting back down and wiping at his eyes to brush away tears of amusement.

Sera was opening her mouth to make a wisecrack, when the door of the tavern flung open wide with a bang.

“Corypheus has been spotted! He’s coming for SkyHold!” A young woman shouted into the tavern. Everyone sat in silence for a moment, stunned out of their gaiety at the sudden intrusion.

But then the room was a flurry of activity, soldiers rushing out of the front doors to head as fast as they could to their barracks, The Inquisitor was quick to follow Iron Bull to the qunari’s room where they had left their armor and weapons after returning to the keep.

Cullen rushed up the stairs and along the battlements, his boots pounding on the stone wall as he ran to his room where his newly fixed coat was hanging. His fingers were steady as he pulled it on, latching it tightly closed and tying his sword to his waist.

The keep was in an uproar, men and women rushing too and fro, the few guards on duty knocking their arrows and loosening the swords in their scabbards.

But as the meager number of soldiers got to their places, a deep hush fell over the keep, Cullen’s boot falls ringing loudly as he ran across the overpass to the main keep from his tower. Everyone was tense, waiting, ready for any sign of the ancient Tevinter Magister.

He rushed through the rooms and halls to the War Room. The door was wide open, the Inquisitor’s companions lining the hall leading in. They all watched as Cullen rushed past them, his face set with grim determination. He glanced at Dorian as he passed by the mage, the other man watching him with a stern expression. None wavered. All stood ready to follow the Inquisitor to possible death.

Leliana turned to look from the window as Cullen entered the room. Josephine was quick behind him, her hands clutched together in fear as she stepped to her spot beside the Commander.

“He was seen by Haven.” Leliana said, her face impassive as she turned back out the window. “There.” She pointed to where a great light was growing near the base of the pass. “And he has a small army of demons with him.”

Cullen looked out the window and frowned as he noted the light. Most likely forest fires. It burned an angry red. He turned back around and looked at the Inquisitor. His mouth opened to comment about their lack of soldiers to send with her when there was a great tearing boom that rent through the sky. It shook the glass in the window panes and Cullen turned, shocked, to watch as the Rift they had worked so diligently to close was torn wide open once more.

“Maker preserve us.” He whispered, his lips pinching tight in both fear and anger.

“We have no time to discuss this. Gather what forces we have, we march.” The Inquisitor said, turning on her heel and storming back out of the room. The companions were hot on her heels, listening as she barked orders to them.

“Dorian, Cassandra, Solas! With me! Iron Bull, lead the Chargers with Cullen, Blackwall, I need to you to-” The woman’s voice drifted off as they left the hallway and rushed through the keep, undoubtedly to get their mounts and begin the treacherous way back down to the ruins of Haven.

She may have been uncertain about her role as leader when they first gave her the mantle, but Cullen couldn’t help the small smirk of satisfaction as the woman rushed off.

“Let’s go.” He said, following after the other’s, ready to get his own meager compliment of soldiers on horse back and following the Inquisitor.

They had found and carved a well used path that led down through the mountain passes back to Haven. It took only hours at hard ride to reach the edge of the small village. Demons were wandering around aimlessly. There had been workers in the area, fixing the area from the damage done to it by the landslides. But their bodies lay mangled and torn from the initial attack of the blighted Corypheus.

“There!” Cassandra cried as they rushed through to the Conclave, cutting through the demons. Corypheus stood, his great size dwarfing the men that fought the demons nearby. But as they neared the Darkspawn Magister, the ground began to shake terribly.

Cullen was holding demons from behind off, when there was a great tearing sound, the ground buckling and heaving. It threw him to his hands and knees, and he turned in time to see the blown up Conclave rise in the sky.

“Inquisitor!” He shouted, getting to his feet and rushing forward. He watched as someone’s legs dangled for a brief moment from the edge of the rising torn land, but whoever it was was quickly lifted onto the platform of earth. “Dorian!” Cullen cried, his heart pounding in sudden fear.

The sheer amount of power needed to do that... But Cullen didn’t have time to think about it for too long as shrieking calls of demons brought him back to the fighting at hand. He could only send a prayer up to the Maker that those up in the sky survived.

The fighting with the demons below ended relatively swiftly. The small army Leliana had warned about had been barely even a regiment of the cursed monsters. But they had done damage to the soldiers Cullen had been able to muster.

Cullen stood with Leliana and the other gathered companions. They stared, watching, waiting for the end of the battle that raged out of their reach. Iron Bull kept muttering under his breath, his great hands clenched into fists at his side. They could see two dragons circling high above. Cullen briefly wondered just where the second dragon had come from. But it tumbled from the sky, landing upon a floating island, the Archdemon falling somewhere amongst the ruins high above them.

“If only griffons were still around...” Blackwall had murmured. It felt as if time were stretching into eternity as they waited, watching.

Suddenly another great burst of energy, a green shockwave of light rushed over the valley as the Rift was sealed shut once more. And the islands of earth began to fall back to the ground. Everyone turned and rushed away, trying to get out of the falling debris.

The air was thick with dust and Cullen coughed loudly as he stood up from where he’d fallen after being knocked over as the earth shook with the collapse of the Conclave. He stood, turning to look back, hopeful to see the Inquisitor and her companions walk from the ruins.

But it was silent.

Cullen approached slowly, Iron Bull next to him. Both watched and waited, hoping.

“Kadan?” Bull called tentatively.

There was movement in the dusty air and Cullen’s breath caught in his throat as three figures stepped forward. Trevelyan led, limping down a cracked and ruined stair case. Behind her Cassandra helped Dorian, the mage leaning heavily against her, his hand clutching his side, his armor stained dark red with blood. Solas was nowhere to be seen.

“Inquisitor!”

“Kadan!”

“They’re alive!”

People’s voices raised in shock, awe, excitement. They’d done it. They had won.

Iron Bull rushed forward, catching the Inquisitor as she stumbled to her knees. The great qunari lifted the woman in his arms, pressing a kiss to her small face.

Cullen turned his attention to Cassandra as she helped Dorian sit down on a nearby broken boulder. He walked over, reaching out touch Cassandra’s plated shoulder. She nodded to him. The woman’s eye was swollen shut, her nose bleeding.

“He is dead. Corypheus is gone.” She said, her face drawn in pain but smiling. Cullen smiled back.

His eyes left the Seeker’s face to look down at the slumped mage. Cullen knelt down in front of the other, one hand gently touching his knee. Dorian’s face was smeared with blood, a giant bruise on his cheek. His arm was wrapped around his chest as if he were trying to hold his ribs together.

“I’m alive.” He croaked, smirking lopsidedly at Cullen. “And you’re alive. What a pleasant turn of events.” He panted out.

Cullen’s fingers squeezed the man’s knee. “Let’s get you all to the healers.” He said, standing up and waving at some nearby celebrating soldiers. “Get their mounts! Let’s get the wounded back to SkyHold!”

The ride back up was longer than the hurried rush down. Leliana had sent scouts ahead to have healers meet them halfway. The worst of the wounded were treated, the Inquisitor had waved off the healer, having the man go and tend to the soldiers.

‘Cracked ribs and twisted ankles are nothing.’ She’d said.

They’d made it back to SkyHold the next evening. And as they walked in, there was a great gathering of people, cheering, chanting. They were greeted as the heroes they were. And Cullen watched as the Inquisitor, followed by her loyal companions rode in through the gates, surrounded by the soldiers and nobles still inside the walls. He’d smiled as Dorian had looked over his shoulder at him, the other’s bruised face grinning ear to ear.

There had been speeches that followed, cheering. And the revelry, even after the Inuqisitor had disappeared into her chambers, continued for hours.

Cullen sat in his chair, laughing along with Blackwall as they told old war stories. It felt good to just... Sit. There was nothing more for him to worry about, nothing he needed to think about. They had won, the Inquisitor had killed the man who threatened to tear the world apart by the very fabric of it’s existence.

They were alive. And they were free.

Cullen stood up after a minute of watching the other’s speaking. He downed the last of his glass of wine and turned looking around the hall. A lot of the people had either left or passed out where they were.

Shockingly, Cullen didn’t see a certain copper skinned mage anywhere in the crowd. He was so used to the other man following him like a shadow, appearing when he least expected it. But he had only seen the other briefly during the nights parties, and the mage hadn’t approached him.

Cullen stepped outside, looking around the courtyards. There was a chill bite in the night air, the promise of fall. Cullen’s footsteps were soft as he wandered the grounds, eyes searching for the man.

Finally he found himself on the battlements, on the far southern corner, away from all the party goers, the music and laughter distant and faded. Dorian was standing, alone, his dark form outlined by the starry night sky.

Cullen approached slowly, curious why the other was out here of all places. “Dorian?” He called softly as he came closer.

The other man looked back at him briefly, before turning back around to look out over the dark mountains. “Amatus.” The other answered back.

“What are you doing out here? The wine not to your liking?” Cullen quipped, stepping to stand next to the other. The moon was a small sliver and Cullen could barely make out the other man’s facial expressions. It was quiet. “Are you not cold?” He asked, when Dorian didn’t answer his jibing questions.

“I am.” Dorian finally answered. But he didn’t move, his hands were resting against the wall as he leaned.

“What are you doing out here?” Cullen asked again, stepping a little closer.

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

Dorian was quiet for a moment before he turned his head to look at Cullen. His eyes glimmered in the dark, and Cullen waited for his answer. “What happens next.” He finally said, turning to face Cullen directly.

Cullen’s heart skipped a beat. What did happen next? “And?”

“I... will be leaving for Tevinter by winter’s end, I think.” Dorian’s face turned away into shadow.

The ex-Templar waited. He didn’t think he could speak just yet. He didn’t know how to answer the confession. But the silence drew on and Dorian let out a shaky sigh of defeat.

Cullen licked his lips and bit his lip. “I... Will be visiting family in Fereldan. I leave in a week.”

Dorian turned away from him, leaning against the balustrade once more.

“Would you care to come with me? The leaves should be changing soon.”

The mage turned back to him. And even in the dark, Cullen could see the surprise on the other’s face.

“Come with me.” He said, a little more forcefully, less of a question.

There was a soft choked whimper from the other man, as if he were holding in a sob. But when the mage stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him, warm lips pressing against his own in a heated kiss, Cullen knew he’d made the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this will be the end of this particular set of chapters. Since there's Trespasser DLC as well, and who can say no to Cassandra getting excited over marriage. Cuuuute!
> 
> But, I think I will have a one off fic of some E rated Fereldan fluff. Because my brain wants to, and gosh darn it. Just gotta write it first. ;)


	14. Back to the Winter Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They return to the Winter Palace to plead the case that the Inquisition is still relevant. (Trespasser DLC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been awhile and I did stop randomly in the middle of the sexy time fic. We'll get back to that one (I'm having a random writer's block mid smut moment), but Trespasser keeps bothering me and I need to get it out.
> 
> Also... Fluff... Everyone needs more fluff these days.

Two years. Two years had passed and the Inquisition had grown in power and influence. Men and women flocked to the great gates of SkyHold looking to join the righteous armies that marched through the lands protecting anyone who needed it from the marauding hordes of demons, blood mages, and darkspawn that had become a common place experience of life in Thedas.

They of course were not as numerous as when the rift was torn wide. But they were enough of a problem that the Inqusition still had a place in every day life for the commoner.

And with that power came the glaring eyes of the nobility and governments of the world. Particularly Fereldan. The country that still remembered the oppressive hand of the Orlesian Empire. They were quick to denounce the Inquisition and it’s growing forces and political hand through out Thedas.

A danger. That’s what Cullen’s home called his work. Something to be feared and repressed. He didn’t blame Fereldan for having that fear considering Orlais had a large hand in what the Inquisition did and where they went, the politicks that they held.

Divine Victoria, or Cassandra as he would always know her, was quick to stay Queen Anora’s hand when it came to forbidding any Inquisition ‘meddling’ inside their borders. But the Queen was just as quick to ensure that they knew just the stance she took on their presence within her lands.

Hence the current Peace Talks. Orlais itself would never say out loud that they did not agree with the Inquisition but it was clear that they were as unsettled by the sheer amount of power that had been gathered by the once small rebel band of outcasts.

Cullen’s horse tossed it’s head as they waited for the gates to the Winter Palace to be opened for their entourage. The Inquisitor rode her magnificently armored Fereldan Forder; the very same one she had been gifted years ago by Master Dennet. The horse had been trained to be a vicious war steed. It even was able to fight off Cullen’s own larger roan steed when it decided the stallion was unfit company. The old saying seemed true: like rider, like mount. Leliana and Josephine rode on either side of the imposing woman.

He rode behind the three. They were speaking of what was to come during the peace talks. Josephine was nervous, at best. Her back was straight as a board, her hands grasping the reins of her own mount tightly.

Cullen couldn’t blame her. The woman was going to be put to the test over the next few days. He himself was only there for show, really. This was her arena. That and the Spy Master. The two women would be required to control the diplomats vying for the power that the Inquisition had procured over such a short time.

And with Divine Victoria’s support, Cullen had no doubt that they would be victorious.

It wasn’t that he was against his home land’s decisions. He just was able to see the bigger picture. He wasn’t constrained by borders and the old resentments that his countrymen were.

Murmurs followed their path up through the gates of the palace. So many nobles were watching them, waiting to see who would be the weightier option to throw their support behind. That stupid Game they played. If it could be considered a Game at all.

They eventually made it to the palace gardens. Very little had changed in the time since they’d been there those years ago, saving the Empire from collapsing in on itself. Cullen was surprised to see Varric waiting in the sidelines with a small entourage of his own, watching as they dismounted from their armored mounts and were led into the gardens by a group of servants.

“I can’t say I missed this place.” Trevelyan muttered from his side, catching Cullen off guard as he turned his attention toward the small woman.

“Me either.” He whispered back, earning a small smile from her.

“Well, let’s at least try to play nice. Josephine is certain that we could very well lose everything if this isn’t played right. So... All smiles. Just pretend you have some interest in the marriage proposals.” The Inquisitor said as she moved ahead of him, sliding through the crowd that parted like water before her.

Cullen just grunted in response and sighed as he glanced around the open courtyard. The fountains were burbling noisily and Cullen stepped forward to dip his fingers into the cool water.

“I think I saw someone taking a piss in there earlier.” Varric said from beside him. His gravelly voice tinted with amusement.

“Ugh. Orlesians.” Cullen growled, shaking his hand in disgust.

“Been awhile, Curly. How are you holding up?”

The Templar’s shoulders lifted in a shrug as he eyed the man lingering behind Varric. “Alright everything considered. This isn’t exactly my arena. Thankfully we have Josephine on our side.”

Varric glanced over at the man behind him as well before looking back at Cullen. “They made me the viscount. Pump enough money into something and they give you a shitty title.”

Cullen’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Impressive. I’m sure you’re doing a wonderful job.”

“Well, if you ever want to come back to the Templars, I’d be glad to have you on my side.”

“Hm. I’ll think about it when this is all over.” The blonde reached forward and slapped his hand on Varric’s shoulder. His eyes glanced around the courtyard, seeing if he recognized anyone else in the area.

“Looking for a certain someone? I heard he’s talking to the Orlesian diplomats. I’m not the only one who got a promotion.” Varric was smirking up at Cullen in a knowing manner.

Cullen’s cheeks flushed a light pink and he frowned down at the dwarf. “I was just seeing who all was here.”

“I think just about everyone came back. We all owe _her_ our lives after all.” Varric answered, his eyes flicking to look up at the great balcony that was above them where the Inquisitor was being greeted by a few dignitaries. “Well, come to the tavern later, I’ll buy you a round.”

Cullen smiled and nodded at the dwarf before turning around and wandering off to a part of the courtyards that had been closed off the last time they’d visited. Well, he supposed, most of the palace had been closed off. There was far more open and available to explore. He supposed they were going to be at the palace for far longer now than they were before.

“Cullen, dearest!” Vivienne called to him from her lounging chair. Well maintained pools of water glistened under the warm sun, more fountains splashing in the distance.

“Vivienne.” He said, stepping towards the woman.

“How are you doing? I feel we haven’t seen each other in ages.” She said, smiling up at him from her poised position.

“Doing well, all things considered.” He said, adjusting the sash of his uniform.

“I’m surprised you’re wearing that hideous thing. Honestly I would think Josephine would have gotten a better uniform for you by now.”

Cullen chuckled softly and scratched at his chin. “You would think.”

“Well, darling. If you see the Inquisitor send her my way. I have a wonderful surprise for her.”

“I will pass the message on.” He said, bowing slightly towards the woman.

“I saw Dorian heading up that way. But I believe he is speaking with someone, dear. I’m sure he’ll be down this way soon enough.” Vivienne smiled pleasantly before leaning further back on the cushion she rested against.

Cullen’s cheeks warmed again and he gave a curt dip of his head before turning away and walking towards a small gazebo nearby.

“You stupid mutt!” A man shouted, the sound of a mabari growling nearby. Cullen glanced over his shoulder towards the disturbance. “I said for you to sit and wait, now look! You’ve scared her away with your ruckus.”

“Is something the matter?” Cullen asked the Orlesian noble as he stepped closer, eyeing both the war dog and the man cautiously.

“Ah! Fereldan. There! You can take him! He is far more trouble than he was worth! I was promised a dog that could entertain, and instead I have been sold nothing more than a nuisance.” The noble said, turning his nose up towards the dog. “Dog lords take you!” He shouted at the animal.

Cullen watched as the man stormed off, leaving both the ex-Templar and the Mabari to stand in perplexed silence. Turning slowly, Cullen looked at the dog. The animal looked up at him, it’s head tilting questioningly at him. “I guess... You’re with me now.” He said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

The dog barked happily, it’s tail wagging as it jumped up from it’s seated position to bow down towards Cullen.

He smiled at the animal and leaned over to pat it gently on it’s large head, scratching gently between the two perked ears. “I’ve always wanted a mabari.” He admitted softly.

“You’ve found a dog!” The Inquisitor said. “Surprising, I found a dog treat.” She held out a bone in her small slender hand, letting the dog take it gently from her. “What a well behaved boy!”

“I... Yes. I guess Mabari’s are too smart for an Orlesian noble to handle.” Cullen answered, turning to glance over his shoulder in the direction the noble had disappeared towards.

“Well, it is said Mabari’s have a higher intellect than your average noble.” The Inquisitor quipped, smiling at Cullen as the man stood up from where he knelt next to the animal. “Where is Dorian?” She asked, glancing around.

“I have absolutely no idea. Vivienne said something about him above.” He said waving towards the grand balconies that were lifted over the pools of the courtyard. “Also, she has a surprise for you.”

“You haven’t seen him?” Trevelyan asked, surprised.

“Of course not. I don’t see why I am expected to know his every move.” Cullen muttered, his hands once more fussing with the sash on his waist.

Trevelyan gave him a look, her eyebrows high on her head and her eyes glimmering with amusement. “Yes, why would we expect _you_ to know where _he_ is?” The woman tittered as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Well, I’ll let him know you’re down here.” She said, turning and heading towards the sweeping staircase that led up to the Fereldan and Orlesian ambassadors. Cullen gave her a small bow, tilting his head towards the woman in respect.

He turned back to his new companion, kneeling down to again scratch the dog’s forehead. It’s rear waggled back and forth in happiness, it’s tongue lolling out of the side of it’s mouth. “What shall we name you?” He pondered quietly as the dog turned back to the bone the Inquisitor had gifted.

“Amatus.” A smoothly accented voice purred from beside him. Cullen looked up, surprised by the sudden intrusion. He hadn’t noticed the time passing as he debated what to name the dog.

“Dorian.” He answered back, his cheeks flushing in pleasure at the sight of the other man. They hadn’t seen each other in almost a year. Both busy with their own lives and the strenuous challenges that came with their positions. Cullen had deeply regretted Dorian’s departure. Even though the two wrote each other often it wasn’t the same as when he had been able to hold the other man, smell his perfume, taste his kiss. 

Dorian was smiling warmly down at him as a slender hand reached to touch Cullen’s blonde hair. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to be coming.”

Cullen watched as the mage knelt down and looked at the mabari that was eyeing him as well.

“You got a dog!” Dorian said. “How very fitting. You’ve always seemed a mabari man. What’s his name?”

“I haven’t decided on one yet.”

“What? How long have you had him?”

“I... suppose a couple of hours.” Cullen scratched at his chin as he looked up at the sun trying to determine the hour of day.

“I’m sorry?” Dorian looked up at Cullen, his lips pouting with a confused expression.

“Some noble just... gave him to me.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug and Cullen looked back at the happily panting pooch.

Dorian was silent for a minute before he started guffawing loudly. Cullen looked at the man in surprise before he started chuckling softly along. The mage wrapped an arm around his ribs and wheezed in mirth, tears gathering at the edges of his dark lashes.

“It’s not that funny.” Cullen said, his lips pulled back into an amused grin at the other’s laughter.

“No, of course not!” Dorian said, wiping at his eyes. “I missed you.” The mage muttered after catching his breath. A cool hand wrapped around Cullen’s knee and squeezed companionably.

Cullen’s heart skipped a beat and he smiled shyly down at the ground, his cheeks warm. “I missed you as well.” He replied softly as he placed a hand over Dorian’s.

“Ugh, you two make me sick!” Sera whined loudly from nearby.

Cullen smiled at Dorian and stood up, looking over at the elf. “I’m surprised you came.” He said, rubbing at the back of his head in embarrassment at being caught gooey eyed.

“‘Course I came! Widdle told me I had to. Anyway, the Inquisitor might need some arrows and I have plenty of those.” Sera said, warily eyeing a group of nobles that were conversing nearby. “You got a dog?”

Cullen nodded at the elf and turned back around to look at the mabari. “I suppose so.” He wondered briefly how many others were going to ask him about the animal. It’s large dark brown eyes were staring up at him almost lovingly, it’s tail continuously moving back and forth.

“He’s cute. Widdle would love him. Probably make him some armor or something. We could attach a little trebuchet! He’d be a real war dog then!” Sera said, looking at the dog pensively.

Cullen was about to tell her not to bother when a hand touched his shoulder. He looked over at Josephine, the woman smiling and saying hello softly to Dorian next to him.

“Cullen, we must got make introductions.” She said, her voice in a hushed whisper. “If we can make a good impression before tomorrow, it may help our cause.” Worry creased the corner of her eyes as she glanced about at the milling dignitaries.

“Of course. Sera. Dorian. Excuse us.” Cullen said, pulling down on his jacket to straighten it out. As he followed the Ambassador through the courtyard he heard Dorian call after him.

“We’ll be in the tavern, amatus! Come by when you’re finished shmoozing!”

“Amaaatuuus!” Sera taunted, making loud almost obscene kissing sounds behind him. Cullen’s ears turned red as he set his jaw firmly, doing his best to ignore the amused look on Josephine’s face.

A few hours later Cullen was walking bleary eyed towards his room. As he stepped into the main entry gardens he could hear a loud bellowing laugh coming from the opposite side of the open areas. It was Iron Bull. He would never forget that laugh.

Cullen smirked and started towards the tavern sitting behind the wall on the other side of the gardens. As he stepped around the gate, his smirk grew to a large smile as he watched a few of the Chargers stumble drunkenly out of the tavern doorway. The group had been on a few missions to Nevarra and the Free Marches and were only just returned.

His new mabari companion was laying just outside the door, snuffling and whimpering in it’s sleep. Cullen reached down and patted the dog before he stepped into the small blue building, eyes scanning the room. Trevelyan was sitting on Iron Bull’s lap, laughing in a way Cullen hadn’t heard in a very long time. Her cheeks were flush with her drunkeness and a large tankard of ale was cradled in her small hands.

“There he is! He tried to get rid of us by sending us to Nevarra!” Bull said, looking around the room at anyone who was listening. “But we made it back before everything went to shit!”

“I wasn’t trying to -” Cullen shook his head disapprovingly. Leliana had probably ulterior motives to sending the Chargers away when she had, but Cullen had known the group to be capable enough that they would return in due time.

The Iron Bull laughed loudly, lifting his own tankard up towards Cullen. “I’m just kidding! Don’t worry, I know it was all Leliana’s doing.” He winked at the Ex-Templar.

“Drink, Curly?” Varric called from near the bar.

Cullen turned towards the dwarf and nodded as he stepped through the crowd towards the bar top. He paused briefly as he glanced over and saw Dorian leaning back on an elbow against the counter, a small lopsided smirk on his face as he watched Cullen push through the crowd towards him. The other was wearing a red silk shirt, open at the chest, and form fitting black leather pants. The red was a perfect compliment to the Tevinter’s darker skin tone, and Cullen couldn’t help the way his eyes lingered on his lover’s skin.

Varric turned back from the barkeep he was ordering a drink from and held out a tankard of ale towards Cullen. “Better to get drunk tonight, we know there won’t be time over the next few days.” The dwarf said, ignoring the way Cullen had to force his attention away from the mage.

Cullen took the offered ale and thanks the dwarf. “Hopefully all goes well.” He said, glancing back at Dorian. The other still hadn’t said anything, but his smirk was growing larger as watched Cullen.

“I’m sure Ruffles is working herself into a frenzy just now. She should have come with us!”

The Inquisitor gasped loudly, jumping up from Iron Bulls lap. “The Opera!” She shouted, setting her tankard down on a nearby table and quickly dashing out of the tavern. Everyone stood blinking at the doorway the woman had rushed out of.

“I, um... I don’t know what that was about.” Iron Bull said, scratching his head in confusion. He finished off his tankard of ale and then stood up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand as he set his own mug down next to the Inquisitor’s own and following in her path at a more restrained pace.

Varric chuckled and shook his head. “As I was saying, I’m sure Ruffles will have it all worked out in no time. She’s a professional.”

“And what is your role in this?” Dorian finally asked, drawing Cullen’s attention back to him.

“I’m here for security detail. I suppose.” Cullen shrugged, sipping at his tankard, eyes still locked with Dorian’s own.

“Probably here as bait for those nobles wives.” Sera said, appearing beside Dorian. “Get them eager enough to have Blondie here between their legs and they’ll see that their men support the Inquisition.”

Cullen felt mildly insulted. But when he thought about Trevelyan’s quip earlier about marriage proposals it probably wasn’t too far off the mark. “I am the Commander of the Inquisition. I have a vital role in it’s formation and -”

“Blah blah. You sound like you have to say it so you believe it.” Sera wrinkled her nose at Cullen.

“Be nice.” A small voice chided. Cullen glanced over at a small dwarf, even smaller than Varric was. Her button nose scrunched up as she looked at Sera with a serious expression. “Hello, Commander.”

“Dagna.” He said, nodding towards her. She had recently returned from a trip to Orzimmar to procure some rare crafting materials for the Inquisitor. And when invited to the Winter Palace the young dwarven woman had been eager to come. To put it mildly.

“Did you see the forge, Varric? It’s truly a wonderful piece of equipment! I mean obviously the one back at SkyHold-”

Cullen let the dwarf’s voice fade to the background as his attention was once more drawn to Dorian. The man’s grey eyes hadn’t left him, as if he were a prey animal and Dorian the predator. A shiver ran up and down his spine and Cullen glanced away briefly to his cup. But his gaze was pulled back like a magnet. The sounds of the tavern dulled to a faded hum and it was as if there was nothing left but the two men watching each other. Cullen’s heart pounded fretfully in his chest, fluttering with excitement and giddy with desire.

Finally Dorian broke, a small snort of laughter as he reached up to rub at his forehead. “If I could pour you into a glass and drink you up, amatus, I would do so.” He said, his cheeks pink with a blush as he lifted his head from his hand to look back at Cullen.

“Hm.” The blonde said, turning away from the mage, his own cheeks pink.

“Good material, Sparkler. I’ll remember that for later.” Varric winked at Cullen.

“Please don’t write about me.” Cullen groaned and shook his head. He sipped at his tankard and stared at a wall for a moment, calming his pounding heart.

“How about a game of Wicked Grace? Before the sappiness in this room gets too sticky.” Varric said, turning towards a mostly vacated table

The companions all gathered around and it felt almost like it had. When they were still the saviors of Thedas. Still together working towards a common goal. Still companions.

There was a loud gong from outside as a clock struck the hour of midnight. Most of the occupants in the tavern had left, except for the companions. Trevelyan and Iron Bull had returned a couple hours after the Inquisitor's mad dash out the door. They’d regaled the companions with tales about the opera show that Josephine had treated them before jumping into the next hand of the game.

“Cullen, you really are terrible at this game.” Trevelyan said, shaking her head as they all stood up to head back to their quarters.

“Chess is more my calling.” He said, frowning as he put his considerably lighter coin pouch back into his pocket. “Good night, Inquisitor.” He said, bowing low towards the woman.

“Good night. I’ll expect to see you early, as usual.” She turned and started walking out of the door. Bull followed along behind her, his hand resting on the small woman’s shoulder.

Sera was laying passed out on the table and Cullen looked at Dagna. “Do you need help with...?” He asked.

“No. We’ll be fine. Thank you, though!” She said, giggling softly as the ex-Templar nodded and stood from his seat. “Good night, Commander! Oh, hey! If you want armor for your dog, just let me know! I have some ideas already.” There was a glimmer in the small dwarf’s eye.

“Ah. Thank you. I’ll... consider it.” He said, stepping away from the table. Dorian was quick to push away from his own seat and followed in Cullen’s wake out the door, tossing a casual good night to the few left behind. As they stepped out of the warm tavern and into the cool night air, a soft hand slipped into his own, slender fingers lacing between his own.

“You have left me without a kiss this whole time. And I think I’ve been very patient. And my patience deserves a reward.” Dorian said, stopping in his tracks and pulling on Cullen’s arm as the blonde kept moving forward.

Cullen paused and turned to look at the mage, a small smile curving his lips. “I thought there would be plenty of kissing in my suite.” He said, his voice low and rumbling through the quiet night.

“Ha!” Dorian removed his hand from Cullen’s own. “You think I’m some tart then! Just take me to your room to have your way with me!”

Cullen pursed his lips and shrugged, his eyes rolling to the side. “Maybe not in so many words...”

Dorian laughed brightly, rushing forward to press his body tightly against Cullen’s own. “You are a barbarian.” He growled as he leaned forward to press a warm, wet kiss to the blonde’s mouth. “I missed you so very much.” He whispered against Cullen’s mouth.

Cullen smiled and tilted his head to the side, pressing another firm kiss to Dorian’s lips. “Come on.” He said, turning and pulling the other along with him back into the living quarters wing of the palace.

He hadn’t noticed it as much when the other man was gone. But as he held Dorian close, he could hear the veil singing so far away.


	15. Chapter 15

“Your perfume is different.” Cullen said as he pulled his undershirt on. The sun was slowly creeping it’s way above the horizon, the sky turning from it’s early dawn pink to a brighter blue hue.

“Hm?” Dorian asked, laying in languid post morning coital bliss on the bed. His muscled legs were tangled with the cream colored silk sheets, the only thing even remotely touching his caramel skin.

“Your perfume. It’s... different.” Cullen repeated as he stepped over to a nearby mirror to fix his hair.

“Sandalwood.” Dorian answered sleepily. Brown eyes looked at the mage’s reflection in the mirror.

“Sandalwood?” Cullen asked as he splashed a little water from the washing basin below the mirror on his face before starting to scrub at his teeth with a fine toothbrush.

“It’s all the rage in Qarinus right now.” The other man yawned widely, his hands rubbing over his face. He laughed suddenly and shook his head. “So much so, someone did a full regal ball with it. I couldn’t smell anything else for a week.”

Cullen finished scrubbing his teeth and turned to look at Dorian still sprawled on the bed. A deep primal desire was building low in his stomach again but the ex-Templar was able to stamp it out as he grabbed his formal coat and pulled it on.

“Do you not like it?” Dorian asked, pulling the blonde’s attention away from the buttons of his overcoat and back to the mage.

“It’s just... different.” Cullen said, grabbing the royal blue sash and wrapping it around his chest.

“So you don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you would rather I were wearing my old perfume.”

“I didn’t say that either.” Cullen glanced out of the corner of his eye at Dorian, the man now raised on his elbows.

“But you didn’t say you like the sandalwood.” Dorian was pouting at him now.

Cullen rolled his eyes and sighed. “Dorian.”

A small smirk crossed the other man’s lips and he chuckled softly. “Your patience astounds me.” He said as he fell back against the bed once more.

Cullen walked over towards the other, staring down his nose with a slight frown on his lips. “Why do you constantly feel the need to irritate me?”

Dorian grinned widely up at Cullen, his arms now crossed behind his head as he stared up. “It’s amusing.”

“I am not here to be your amusement.” Cullen tried to keep his best _Commander in Charge_ voice as he stared down at the man. The mage bit his tongue between bright ivory teeth as he continued to grin.

“No? Because I am rather amused right now. Kiss me, amatus! I love when you look so stern.” The mage said, reaching up and grabbing at the front of Cullen’s coat.

The ex-Templar obliged and leaned over to press a soft kiss to Dorian’s lips, smiling into the kiss when the other man sighed in pleasure. “I have to go now. You shouldn’t linger in bed too long, I’m sure the Inquisitor will need her Altus.”

“Of course, Commander Cullen. As you command. Right away, ser, yes, ser.” Dorian saluted sharply, his fist thumping against his chest.

Shaking his head, Cullen pressed one more kiss to the man’s lips before standing up straight and leaving the room.

The sun was quickly rising, chasing the chill and shadows from the palace gardens. Cullen strolled slowly along the gravel pathway, his boots crunching loudly in the morning still. In the distance he spotted another bright red coat along the pathway standing next to a large towering Qunari. The Inquisitor and Iron Bull.

The small woman turned to watch as Cullen approached them. “Care to join us for breakfast, Commander?” She called towards him when he got a little closer.

“Inquisitor. That would be lovely.” He said, nodding respectfully towards her and Iron Bull. They all continued along the pathway towards a nearby guest dining wing. Lavish would have been an understatement. But Cullen supposed with all the visiting dignitaries from various countries around Thedas that Orlais was putting on the show of wealth as a way to intimidate: Playing the Game with unwitting participants.

They were sat by a group of servants and tea was served hot as plates of eggs and sausages and various pastries were brought past and served. Iron Bull’s plate was filled over with food, and a nearby servant eyed him nervously as he asked for another helping of eggs. The Inquisitor primly sat with her modestly served plate, nibbling daintily on a jam filled pastry.

Cullen filled his plate and slowly began to eat, sipping at his tea between bites. The merry song of morning birds echoed through the open dining area and a cool morning breeze drifted through the open doors and windows lining the walls.

“Dorian not joining us?” The Inquisitor asked after she finished her pastry.

“The pretty ones always sleep in.” Iron Bull said through a large bite of eggs.

“Oh. So I’m not pretty?” The Inquisitor asked, ruffling slightly around the edges.

“You sleep in plenty. Enough for two or three Dorian’s.” The Bull didn’t even flinch at her bristling anymore. He shoved a full sausage into his mouth and looked around the room, his great horns tilting with the motion of his head.

Trevelyan seemed to be assuaged by the other’s backwards compliment and Cullen couldn’t help but smirk as he remembered how Dorian had poked at him earlier. “How long has it been? He left so long ago it seems. Ages.” She continued on, stabbing a fork into cooling eggs.

“Almost a year, I guess.” Cullen said, his fingers picking apart a pastry of his own. Inside was a sweet creamy cheese.

“You went a whole year without getting laid?!” Bull asked, leaning around Trevelyan to look wide eyed at Cullen.

“I...” Cullen’s cheeks flushed bright red. “I mean, it’s not-”

“Wow! No wonder he needs to sleep in! Poor guy probably can’t even stand up!” Bull roared. Other early rising ambassadors and nobles turned from their meals and looked over at the three, whispering amongst themselves about the loud Qunari.

Cullen coughed lightly and stared at the flaking pastry in his fingers, trying hard not to get up and bolt from the room in horrified embarrassment. His whole body was flushed hot with humiliation.

A small hand touched his shoulder, bringing his attention over towards Trevelyan’s face. She was smiling gently at him, rubbing his shoulder. Cullen’s eyes were drawn to a glimmer of a dagger under the table. Iron Bull was sitting up straighter, the dagger pressing against his inner thigh.

“I’m sorry, kadan.” The Qunari whispered, his large hand reaching under the table to try and pull the dagger from his groin.

Trevelyan didn’t say anything as she removed the knife and slipped it back into it’s sheath attached to her hip. “Are you happy to see him again?” She finally asked, returning to her breakfast.

“Yes.” Cullen answered, nodding at the woman. “It’s very nice to see him.”

“And have sex again.” Bull said, quieter this time.

The Inquisitor turned her storm grey eyes to look at the Qunari, shooting him a warning glance. “Yes. We’ve all missed him quite a lot. I’m sure you more than anyone else though. Remember all those years ago, when you told me ‘I can only offer friendship’.” She chuckled softly, plucking a strawberry off her plate.

Cullen hummed and nodded. He had said that. But if Dorian was anything the man was tenacious in getting his way. Not that Cullen minded. He had grown very fond of the Tevinter mage over the years and enjoyed every moment he got to spend with him.

“Inquisitor. I’m glad I found you.” Josephine appeared through a nearby doorway, quickly striding across the room towards the three. “I believe it would be best if we take some time before the talks to go over what it is we should talk about with the delegates. Leliana has been able to procure a room for us to use.”

Trevelyan sighed as she ate her last piece of fruit and stood up, setting her napkin down over the empty plate. “I’ll see you later, Bull.” She said, leaning over to press a kiss to the qunari’s head.

Cullen took one last bite of his eggs, standing as well and following the two women out of the dining hall.

They had spoken at length with the Inquisitor, going over various papers of treaties given to them to study by the Orlesian diplomats. Cullen’s head was throbbing with the ins and outs of the politics. He was glad that he didn’t need to be anything more than a witness. If they even called him to the stand.

By midmorning they had started the hearings and Cullen was left to his own devices until they needed him. He was once more in the courtyards near the baths enjoying the companionship of his new dog. Most of the gardens and courtyards were empty, every dignitary, ambassador, noble, and politician currently inside watching the opening statements.

Dorian had been briefly by before going into the hearings as the Tevinter Ambassador. They’d shared a small quiet moment behind a fountain, the man murmuring sweet nothings to Cullen before taking his leave.

“Hey, Curly.” Varric said as he lazily wandered the gardens. The ever present assistant lingering a few feet behind him. “How are you holding up?”

Cullen stood up from where he was sitting on nearby stairs, bowing slightly to the dwarf in respect. “Nervous, to say the least.”

“Yeah. Same here. I had a chat with a couple of the Fereldan’s here. They are not a happy bunch.”

“No. I suppose they aren’t.” Cullen pinched his lips together as he glanced around the nearly empty courtyard. There were a few wandering Fereldan soldiers, Orlesian guards, and Inquisition troops. All gave each other wide berths and cautious glances. It was at best tense between the three factions. Hot regret boiled in Cullen’s chest as he watched a few Fereldan’s whisper amongst themselves, shooting barely concealed glares at the Inquisition soldiers that patrolled nearby.

“Well... Ruffles will be able to work something out.” Varric said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe we should-”

“Cullen! Come quickly!” Leliana barked from across the yard. Both Varric and Cullen looked up at her voice, the ex-Templar jogging over towards her. She turned on her heel, leading him towards a small side room. “One of my men found a body. We’ve told the Inquisitor, she’s on her way down now.”

“Do you think it has to do with the eluvian she saw yesterday?” He asked, mentioning the brief interaction the Inquisitor had had with a working eluvian inside the palace.

“It’s entirely possible.” Leliana said, refusing to speak more of it as they walked past a troop of Fereldan guards.

They stepped into the room guarded on both sides by Inquisition soldiers. A few lingering nearby nobles were eyeing them warily as they all stepped in. Cullen wondered just what they were going to tell everyone. As they stepped inside some of Leliana’s people stood up and began to converse with the Spy Master in hushed tones.

“A Qunari.” Cullen muttered, stepping forward to look at the body. “Are we expecting Qunari?” He asked, glancing over at Leliana.

“No.” She said, glancing up at the doorway as the Inquisitor stepped inside. Cullen stepped back from the body, bowing towards the woman as she approached.

“Josephine is not happy that I’ve had to take such a sudden departure.” She said, her voice stony cold as she knelt next to the body to examine it. “It came from the eluvian. This...”

“It’s another one. Yes.”

“So this isn’t the one I had been to yesterday.” She said, looking at the open portal.

“No, we’ve had the Orlesian ambassador close off that part of the palace and have increased our patrols.” Leliana said, nodding towards one of her men as he handed her a small scroll of paper.

“Another move I’m sure neither side will be happy about.” Trevelyan muttered under her breath as she stood. “Get me the others. We’re going in. If Qunari are using these eluvians to gain entrance to the peace talks... We need to find out why. And who brought them here.”

“Yes, Inquisitor.” Cullen said, bowing his head and stepping away to go collect the gathered companions.

Less than ten minutes later the Inquisitor, Varric, Blackwall, and Dorian had slipped through the portal to an unknown destination. To say it made Cullen feel trepidation would have been an understatement. He remembered the last time they had used an eluvian. But this time they didn’t have Morrigan around to ensure that they would make it back safely.

Cullen was kept busy as the others were gone. But it didn’t stop him from gazing at the eluvian every chance he got, hoping and praying that they would return safely. Hours passed, the sun rising high in the sky before starting to slowly begin it’s descent towards the far horizon once more.

He was discussing plans with Leliana on what they would do if the Inquisitor didn’t return. Josephine had been able to somewhat assuage the gathered diplomats, especially since not only had the Inquisitor left in the middle of the talks but that they had also taken the Tevinter diplomat as well from the hearings.

Which Cullen felt was more of a posturing affront than actual anger at Dorian not being in attendance.

He was standing in the courtyard, watching as the mabari drank from a nearby pool of water, when Cassandra approached from a side door of the palace.

“Commander.” She said, smiling at him. She looked regal dressed as the Divine. Nothing at all like the imposing Seeker the woman had been for so long.

He bowed low, kneeling down as the woman approached. “Divine. How may I serve you?” He asked, his eyes at the ground near her feet.

“Ugh! I detest all this Divine stuff.” She snorted.

Cullen glanced up at her, smiling slightly. “But you have made a truly formidable one.”

“Oh! It’s not that I detest the work, I only hate that everyone feels the need to bow so low when I pass. Or kiss the hem of my robe. It’s unnecessary.” She said, reaching down towards Cullen to help him stand back up.

“Of course, my lady.” He took her hand and pressed a very soft kiss to the back of her wrist after standing. “How may I be of service?”

“I just came to speak with you. I know this is a tough time to endure. It feels almost more difficult than it had when we were fighting Corypheus.”

“Corypheus was a foe we understood. Diplomacy has never been my arena of expertise.” He shrugged, watching as the woman nodded slowly in agreement.

“I also... well, I came to... What I mean to say...” Cassandra’s cheeks were turning pink and the woman was glancing around at the wandering diplomats. “I will support your union. I think marriage is a beautiful thing, and that we should celebrate any happiness we can.”

“Marriage?” Cullen blinked widely at the woman. “Cass- er- Divine Victoria what are you -”

“I know we had our differences, he and I. But please don’t think that past grievances color my opinion now. After all, love is so rare to find these days.” Her brown eyes met with Cullen’s own shock wide ones.

“I’m afraid I didn’t hear you right. Who is getting married?” He asked, his ears burning with embarrassment.

“You... Varric told me that you and Dorian were...” She trailed off, her eyes squinting at him in question. “You aren’t... Planning to propose?”

“No.”

“I’ll wring his little neck!” She hissed, the faint blush on her cheeks quickly paling as she grasped at the air with clawed hands.

“When did Varric tell you this?” Cullen asked, mildly amused at the very thought of Cassandra swooning over the idea of him and Dorian walking down the aisle. “Perhaps he was meaning the Inquisitor and Iron Bull?”

“He said you were all four having a wedding together when this was all finished! He said this was going to be ‘the wedding of the ages’! He asked me to officiate! Why do I always believe that little lying-” She turned away from Cullen, her hands still grasping at the air as if Varric’s neck could appear before her any minute.

“Maybe... Maybe Trevelyan and Bull are going to marry. I haven’t asked them, have you?” Cullen asked, trying to his best to keep from laughing out loud at the woman’s embarrassment.

“No.” She answered sullenly, her shoulders slumping a little. He reached out to touch her arm gently.

“Well, then maybe there will be a wedding.” He said softly as she turned and looked at him with a sad countenance. “It would be something to look forward to.”

“So you aren’t planning... On... Asking Dorian?”

Cullen couldn’t help the soft snort. “I wasn’t. Our lives, after all, are so far apart. But it’s not a terrible idea.” He shrugged slightly, suddenly finding himself wondering what Dorian would even say if he did ask.

“Well...” Cassandra sighed heavily. “I want you to know that I support you both. No matter what happens after all this.” She tilted her head slightly and turned to leave, two armed Templars walking along behind her at a respectable distance.

Cullen bowed low once more, his fist held over his heart as the woman wandered off. Marriage... Would he want to get married to Dorian? It wasn’t a completely reprehensible thought.

“Cullen? A word.” Josephine called out, waving him over. “I need to ask you about our guard complement.” She said as he approached. Her arm wrapped around his and together they walked back to their small meeting room to discuss where Inquisition troops were going to be positioned with the newest developments.

Some time later the Inquisitor and Leliana joined them, Trevelyan giving a brief overview about what had happened on the other side of the eluvian. About the massing Qunari troops, the elven ruins.

“I’m going to find Bull. See if he knows anything about this mess.” She’d said, turning and quickly storming out of the room to locate their own Qunari ally.

Leliana had muttered something about needing to speak with Iron Bull as well, following quick on Trevelyan’s heels. Josephine stood staring down at the table, clearly weighing the pros and cons of keeping the information secret or not.

“Do you need anything further, Ambassador?” He asked softly, waiting quietly as the woman rubbed at her face and sighed heavily.

“No. No, thank you.” She finally answered, her voice weary. “I think I am going to turn in. I am very tired.”

“Let me escort you.” He said, holding an arm out towards the woman. She smiled at him and took his arm, allowing him to lead her along through the palace halls to her sleeping quarters.

“Thank you.” She said, agreeing to having servants sent by later with food and drink.

Cullen wandered back to the courtyard, his eyes looking for any signs of the returned companions. He wanted to ask Dorian about the Qunari. The man was a Tevinter after all, and would have more information about warring with the great beasts. He hoped Trevelyan had at least found Iron Bull.

The sun was sinking low along the horizon by the time he found the mage. The man was sitting next to the mabari, petting the dog’s large ungainly head.

“Amatus!” He called out when he saw Cullen walking across the courtyard towards him. “Feels almost like old times, don’t you think?” Dorian asked as Cullen sat down on the stair beside him.

“A little too much like old times.” Cullen said.

“Indeed.” Dorian sounded far away, as if he were thinking about something. His grey eyes were unfocused as he looked at the palace walls.

“Copper for your thoughts.” Cullen said softly, drawing the man’s gaze from where he stared in the distance.

“Ah. It’s nothing, my love. Just... received some news from home.” Dorian’s brows pinched together and he rubbed at his chin. “I am rather famished. Something about those eluvians whets my appetite. What would you say to taking some strawberries and whipped cream back to your quarters, and let me eat them off of you?”

Cullen laughed softly, shaking his head as his cheeks burned with a blush. “If that is what you wish.” He said, standing up. The mabari picked its head up from where it rested on it’s paws, watching as the two men started walking back towards the living quarters of the palace.


	16. Cullen Rutherford and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It spirals out of control and Cullen hates losing control.

Cullen blinked awake with the sound of bird song. The window near the bed was open and a cool morning breeze drifted into the room, causing the hairs on his arms to prickle slightly. Dorian was wrapped around him, the Altus’ warm body keeping away most of the chill. Lifting a hand, Cullen gently traced the other’s cheek following along the delicate bone. His heart thrummed happily when grey eyes blinked open sleepily and looked into his own.

“G’morning...” Dorian mumbled, a shiver quaking through his limbs as another breeze blew through the window again.

“Good morning.” Cullen whispered, afraid to break the quiet still of the morning. The sun was slowly peeking it’s way over the horizon, tinting the room with splashes of pink and orange. Dorian sighed sleepily, his eyes closing again as his head tucked into the crook of Cullen’s neck. It was simple and warm. And Cullen had missed mornings like it.

He had missed Dorian fiercely.

They lay entwined until the sounds of people waking and moving about outside pulled Cullen from the bed, his sense of duty over riding the desire to remain curled up with the mage all day.

Dorian continued to lay sprawled on the bed, his head turned to watch through the window as birds flew outside against the bright blue morning sky. The mage had an almost sad countenance about him and was not making any snarky quips about the bard singing outside in the gardens or the fact that Cullen was pulling his pants on (which decidedly was not _off_ : Dorian’s preferred pant position).

“Come on. Get dressed, let’s go get some breakfast.” Cullen finally said, finding the mage’s solemn demeanor a little concerning.

The Tevinter looked at Cullen and smirked. “I could go down to breakfast like this. Think of the scandal! I might start a fashion!” Dorian sat up and watched as Cullen adjusted the sash on his jacket.

Cullen chuckled softly and shook his head. “Yes, I’m sure Josephine would be quite pleased to hear the Tevinter Ambassador was walking nude amongst the masses.”

Dorian laughed slightly and nodded. “Yes, well. I wouldn’t want to cause distress to our beautiful spokeswoman. Let me get decent for the masses then and we’ll go enjoy a breaking of our fast.”

Not much later the two men exited the room and headed down towards the dining quarters of the wing. Once more there was a large assortment of various pastries, egg dishes, cured meats, and tea being served.

They ate in companionable quiet. Dorian every now and then would reach over and take a piece of fruit or meat from Cullen’s plate, winking at him playfully. There were hushed whispers from nearby tables but the two men ignored them as they ate their breakfast.

“Cullen!” Josephine called as she entered the dining room. “I’m sorry to interrupt your meal.” She smiled at Dorian softly. “We have been informed that the Fereldan ambassador will be calling you up for questioning. Come, Leliana and the Inquisitor are already in the meeting room.” She nodded once at Dorian and then quickly turned and left the dining room once more, assured that the Commander would follow behind shortly.

Cullen sighed heavily, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “Well.” He said as nervous butterflies danced in his belly as he stood up. “I’ll see you at the noon recess then?” He looked down at the Tevinter.

“Of course.” Dorian watched the ex-Templar start to step away from the table. “I love you. Just know that. No matter what happens.”

Cullen smiled softly at the mage. “See you in little while.” He said, leaving the room to join the Ambassador.

“I call Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition, to question.” Arl Tegan’s voice boomed through the court room.

Cullen stood up from where he sat just behind the Inquisitor. He held his head up high as he stepped towards the dais where the witness stand sat just next to the assembled judges. As he took a seat Cullen could feel beads of sweat form along his brow. His stomach lurched with nerves as his eyes scanned the gathered crowd now staring at him. There was a soft cough from the back of the room but it didn’t break the hush that had fallen over the room.

“Welcome, Commander. A fellow Ferelden, are you not? And former Templar. You served time in Kinloch Hold?” The Arl asked, his tone clipped and harsh.

Cullen cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes.”

“And from there you were stationed in Kirkwall?”

“Yes.”

“And you knew the Champion personally?”

“We had a passing acquaintance.” Cullen couldn’t keep the slight nervous strain from his voice. He was used to speaking in front of crowds. But barking orders to new recruits in training was quite different from having an Arl question you for treason.

“And while in Kirkwall you helped the Champion over throw Knight Commander Meredith, where you then assumed her mantle?” The Arl was pacing back and forth, reading from a sheaf of papers in his hand.

“I was granted the position after Knight Commander Meredith was deemed unfit.”

“Yes, well it’s hard to be fit when you’re dead, isn’t it?”

There was a soft murmur that ran through the crowd and it caused the small hairs on the back of Cullen’s neck to rise.

“She had been corrupted by red lyrium -”

“Then from Kirkwall you were taken by Seeker Pentagast to the Conclave.” The Arl spoke loudly over Cullen, cutting off his response. “Or... you were supposed to go to the Conclave but unfortunate circumstances transpired. And you were then promoted once more to Commander of Inquisition forces. Quite the rise to power in such a short amount of time.”

Cullen remained silent, watching and waiting. He hated politics. He hated the way words would be used to twist the deeds he’d worked hard to accomplish.

“And now you have extended your reach even further. You not only have command of Inquisition soldiers, but you also have the Templars.”

“Those who left the order to join the Inquisition are no longer -”

“Not only do you gather around you titles and men, but also land! That which does not belong to you!”

“We have claimed no land, save that around SkyHold. Which was granted to us by Orlais.” Cullen grit out, trying his best to not allow his anger show.

“What of the forces you have stationed at various camps through out Ferelden? The fortresses within the borders of Orlais that you fly your banner over? Where your men march day and night?” The Arl turned, quick as a viper to stare Cullen down.

“They are only there to ensure that any demons or darkspawn -”

“Darkspawn! Darkspawn are not your duty! They are the duty of the Grey Wardens. Which you banished from Orlais, did you not? Another calculated grab for power!” Spittle flecked the Arl’s lips, the man’s face turning pink in his apparent anger.

“They were enthralled by Corypheus-”

“So you claim-”

“And they needed to be sent away to prevent further corruption!” Cullen’s hands were balled into tight fists and his body trembled in anger.

“How convenient! Then why not, now that you have slain the very core of that corruption, allow the Grey Wardens to return to their duties?”

“We do not know where they have gone.” Cullen answered shortly as he took deep breaths through his nose in an attempt to calm his pounding heart.

“I’m quite sure you don’t.” The Arl snarled as he turned away from Cullen to face the judges. “And what of Haven? You do not claim the village for your own? While you build monuments and house troops? Who granted you that land, then?”

“The village was under no banner, it was gifted by the Chantry for use during the Conclave.”

“That land is well within Ferelden borders. Yet you claim it as your own!”

“An Orlesian noble also claimed the land-”

“So you took it from Orlais then?”

“We took nothing that wasn’t given.”

“And who gave you the land? The Chantry? Who in the Chantry had the authority? The previous Divine, Maker hold her, was not alive to grant you the rights! Who then!”

“It was-”

“No one! No one gave you the rights to house soldiers there! You say you claim no land and yet you already have extended into Fereldan borders!”

Cullen’s jaw was set, his eyes locked with the Arl’s own. His whole body trembled with rage. Finally the Arl turned away from him to face the Inquisitor and Josephine.

“Ferelden will not sit idly by while you fecklessly grab for more.” Arl Tegan turned slowly again to lock eyes with Cullen, his body tensed. “Even if Fereldan blood runs in your veins.”

The room stared at the two men. A silent still had fallen over the gathered members of the court. Everyone in the room seemed to be waiting with a collectively held breath.

“I conclude my questioning.” The Arl adjusted his coat as he stepped back up to his own seat at the judges table.

“Well...” The Orlesian diplomat cleared his throat and stood up. “That was bracing. I believe it is time for lunch, however. We shall have a short recess and return in, let’s say, an hour. Allow our tempers to cool.”

Cullen stood quickly from the witness stand and stormed out of the room, ignoring the plea from Josephine to speak with her. He didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone as he fled the quiet room. But he could feel their eyes following him, watching as he marched quickly between the benches and out the door.

He stormed through the gardens and courtyards until he found himself in a far off part of the palace no one else seemed to know about. His feet paced back and forth along a slightly overgrown pathway. Coils of anger gripped his chest and it took longer than usual for Cullen to work through his meditations to calm himself.

Eventually the trembling anger dissipated to a shallow irritation and Cullen wandered slowly back through the gardens to the front courtyards again. Gathered near the pools he saw the companions speaking amongst themselves. Cullen approached smiling as Varric waved him over.

“Curly! Just in time. Here!” The dwarf handed a cup of wine over to Cullen. Dorian was staring at him wide eyed as if he had been caught in a sudden trap.

“Varric, please, there’s no need-”

“Sparkles, the Imperium doesn’t deserve you. Or want you. It may even kill you. But _we’ll_ miss you, if it counts.” Varric said, raising his cup towards a shell shocked Dorian. “Don’t forget to write to us lowly commoners, Magister Pavus.”

Cullen stared at Varric for a moment before looking over at Dorian.

“And... You didn’t know.” Varric grimaced. “Er-”

He didn’t wait to hear what was about to come out of Dorian’s mouth. Cullen set the wine glass down on the edge of the table and walked off. His heart banged hard against his ribs. The anger he’d just quelled once more rising to grasp his entire being in it’s hot coils.

“Cullen! Wait! Please!” Dorian cried out behind him.

But he didn’t wait. Hurt burned his core as he stomped up the stairs to the entrance of the palace. He pushed past the guards at the front and into the grand foyer. It was empty, everyone having left to find food and drink before the council continued. Cullen found himself pushing into the grand ballroom to escape any prying eyes.

The large double doors slid open as he pushed against them, allowing him to slide into the darkened room. He stepped lightly over to the bannister overlooking the expansive dancing floor. The marble gleamed in the filtered sunlight that peeked through the shuttered windows. The great chandeliers hung dark and low above the dance floor.

Cullen stared out over the silent grand ball room as he took deep shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm his pounding heart.

Betrayal. Dorian had lied to him. The man had promised in every letter he was coming back to stay. That he would return to Cullen.

_I miss you with every breath, amatus._

_My life is a droll and terrible thing without you. I cannot wait to hold you once more._

_We’ll be reunited again, soon. And I don’t plan on ever leaving you again._

_Yours Forever and Always_

_Dorian_

Cullen grit his teeth in anguish. He’d waited. He’d waited for Dorian for almost a year. And now the man was going to leave again. All those pretty words in those letters. All those promises. Broken. Lies.

“Cullen...” A soft voice said from behind him. “I’m-”

“I don’t care, Dorian.” Cullen said. His heart thrummed with anger and pain.

“You don’t mean that.” Dorian’s footsteps echoed softly through the empty room as he approached. Cullen’s shoulders tensed as he continued to stare out over the dance floor. “Look at me.”

It took every ounce of will power but Cullen was able to turn and look at the other man. A flash of white hot pain lanced through his chest.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t how I wanted you to...” Dorian took a breath and looked away from Cullen for a moment. Eventually grey eyes looked back up into honey-brown ones. “I received a letter last night. My father was assassinated, Cullen. I... have to go back.”

“Then you’re a Magister now. Congratulations.” The ex-Templar answered, his voice hard.

“That’s not... I...” Dorian worried his lower lip between his teeth.

“I don’t care what you do, Dorian. You are a grown man. I am not your keeper.” He couldn’t keep the venom from his tone.

The mage’s eyebrows drew together tightly. “That’s not fair. Don’t take your anger over what happened in that room out on me.”

Cullen shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “What isn’t fair is you lying to me!” He hissed angrily.

“I have never lied to you.”

“But you’ve never told the whole truth. You never planned on coming back.”

“That is not true! I had every intention of-”

“Just go! I will not continue to be your toy! I am not a play thing you can just keep in a box until you’re bored!”

The slap echoed loudly through the room. Cullen stared with wide eyes at Dorian. The man stood panting angrily as he glowered back. His cheek stung fiercely from the mage’s hard smack.

“Not once have you said it to me! Not once! And even so I had every intention of staying with you! But with my father’s title I can do so much! I could change my country! Save my homeland!”

“Say what?” Cullen asked, confusion flashing across his features.

“If I have to tell you what I need to hear, then there is not point in hearing it.” Tears rimmed the other man’s eyes. “Don’t worry about it. You needn’t _worry_ about this Magister ever again.” Dorian turned on his heel and walked back towards the doors. “But know that I love you more than anything. I always will. Even if you don’t.” The mage slipped back through the doors, leaving Cullen to stand in sudden silent despair.

He couldn’t breathe.

_I love you._

His heart constricted painfully, tears pricking his eyes before spilling unbidden down his pale cheeks.

_I love you._

“D-Dorian, wait-” Cullen stepped forward to follow after the other man, but another person slipped into the room.

“There you are. We have a problem.” Leliana said, unconcerned about his disheveled state. “They found gatlok barrels.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is it that nothing ever goes to plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this taking so long and being so short. :( I have this horrible horrible habit of thinking of "all the different things they could be doing!" and get sidetracked so easily.
> 
> On that note I did start another one shot roflroflrofl.
> 
> But I put it aside because this is coming to an end and I need to wrap it up.

Cullen followed Leliana down to the courtyards where a large gathering of people were surrounding an Inquisition soldier and an Orlesian servant. “Who found the gatlok barrels?” Cullen hissed at Leliana as they approached the crowd of soldiers, both Orlesian and Inqusition.

“One of our own found the servant smuggling the barrels into the palace.” Leliana said before stepping behind the Inquisitor who was currently toe to toe with an Orlesian guard.

“Your soldiers are out of line! Attacking a servant with no provocation.” The Orlesian guard barked. His face was blotchy red with anger.

“How about I put you in chains, and you can see how far out of line we can get?” Another Inquisition soldier threatened.

“Quiet! You will hold your tongue.” The Inquisitior snapped at the soldier. The Orlesian guard sneered.

“I was only bringing wine in for the delegation.” The servant pleaded.

“You’re lyin’.” The elven Inquisition soldier stated, standing up from where she knelt next to the barrels to turn and look at the Inquisitor. “We know what this is. And it isn’t wine.”

“Arrest him.” Trevelyan said, pointing towards the servant. “I want him questioned.”

“You cannot do this! You are in Orlais and have no authority to do so!” The guard shouted as he watched the soldiers truss up the servant and haul him away.

“Leliana. With me. Cullen get your men looking for more barrels.” Trevelyan gave one heated glance over of the guard before turning and marching off after the soldiers.

“Lord Cyril will hear of this!” The guard shouted after her.

Cullen watched as the Inquisitor and Leliana walked away behind the soldiers talking between each other. He took a slow steadying breath and turned slowly back towards the small entourage of gathered soldiers. “You heard her! Get looking for more! Check everywhere! I want no corner unsearched. I want you to look under every table, bed, and wardrobe in this wretched place!” He barked.

The soldiers all saluted him sharply before marching off in pairs to go search for any possible barrels that had made it into the palace.

He turned back to the known quantity of gatlok. “We need to get this out of the walls of the palace. Somewhere far enough away that even if there’s a spark...”

A few gathered Orlesian guards stared at him openly, unsure if he’d been speaking to them.

“Now!” Cullen shouted at them. They jumped at his sharp tone, still shuffling their feet about. Cullen sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Get a cart and load these into it! It’s a simple task!”

Finally they turned away to presumably find a cart for the barrels of blasting powder. His chest ached with anger. Hurt. He stood over the barrels waiting for the guards to return with the cart.

“Hey, Cullen.” Iron Bull said from his side. “Pretty big mess going on.”

“Bull. Is this... The Dragon’s Breath?” He asked of the Qunari.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m Tal Vashoth, remember?” The large horned man stepped past him to kneel next to the rounded barrels. “But if I had to guess? It’s at least part of the plan.” His large hands swept over the heavy metal siding of the bomb. “I just don’t understand what it is exactly they’re trying to accomplish here. The Ben Hassrath wanted an eye kept on her, but they never viewed her as a threat...” The Qunari starting muttering to himself as he eyed the explosives apprehensively.

Cullen watched as the warrior grumbled to himself, trying to work out just why the Qunari were sending gatlok to the Exalted Council. He, himself, made no claims to understand the warrior race. Those were puzzles better left suited to Leliana and her army of spies.

“Ah, Bull. There you are. I was sent to retrieve you; we’re going back in.” Dorian appeared near Cullen and walked over towards the Qunari kneeling near the barrels. The man didn’t acknowledge or look towards Cullen.

A wave of shame rushed through his chest and Cullen’s heart constricted painfully. The angry words he’d shared with the mage earlier had been unfair and uncalled for. But Cullen didn’t know how to take them back. And the thought of the Tevinter leaving again still wrenched his guts into knots.

Neither man shared a word as Dorian swept back from where he’d come, his jaw set firmly and eyes directly in front of him, not daring to look at the blonde. Cullen stared at the ground near Iron Bull’s feet. His breath came in short puffs and his teeth ground together painfully. The scent of Dorian’s perfume lingered in the air after the other’s quick departure.

“Uh... Are you guys okay?” Bull asked as he stood up. The Qunari’s eye was set firmly on Cullen’s pallid face.

“Of course. You should go, the Inquisitor is waiting.” Cullen said, a little sharper than necessary.

Iron Bull wavered a moment. “Is this about... Tevinter?” He asked softly. The Qunari placed a large hand on Cullen’s shoulder as he stepped near.

Cullen looked at Bull with a heavy glare. “It is none of your concern. We have more pressing matters to attend to just now.” His hissed through his teeth.

Bull looked down his nose at Cullen and nodded once in a slow manner. “Uh-huh.” With one more thoughtful look, the Qunari turned and walked in Dorian’s wake towards where the Inquisitor and the other’s waited.

A cart was eventually brought around and Cullen oversaw the careful loading of the gatlok barrels. He directed the Orlesian’s take the barrels out of the palace and have them put under guard until they had a safe way to dispose of them. He left the courtyards after this was accomplished and headed towards the meeting room where Leliana and Josephine were speaking with the Orlesian and Ferelden diplomats.

“We would like to have been informed about this.” Duke Cyril, the Orlesian ambassador, said. “You could have told us you’d found a dead Qunari the other day. Especially since that’s why the Inquisitor had to excuse herself. Orlais has always been a staunch ally-”

“A power hungry, meddling hand wishing to hold the Inquisition’s leash.” Arl Teagan snarled.

Cullen sighed as he took his position next to Leliana. He was tired. Mentally and physically exhausted. After being angry all morning and the looming unknown threat he was finding it harder and harder to even muster the energy to care. Maybe it was time for him to retire. This life was no way for an old Templar to spend his days. This constant political bickering. The backstabbing, the angry remarks, the incessant babysitting of petty nobles.

He stared down at the table littered with treaties and political documents. Josephine’s neat looping handwriting marked many of the papers.

But what would he do? He had dreamed of spending days with Dorian, perhaps traveling to places he had never been, experiencing cultures he had only ever dreamed of. He had been eyeing a plot of land near his sister’s home, thinking of building a small house of his own. So he could watch his nieces and nephews grow up and have children of their own. Maybe he’d try his hand at writing or learn to play an instrument.

And he had been so hopeful that Dorian would be there with him. Laughing at him when he strung the wrong chord, or thoughtfully reading the passages he had written down.

It was a selfish dream. A silly desire.

Cullen’s throat constricted painfully in sorrow as he pushed a couple papers around on the table top. Josephine was trying her best to assuage the Arl and Duke’s ire at being left in the dark during this ‘most important time’. Leliana was doing her best to explain just why they had taken an Orlesian servant into custody. And neither diplomat seemed willing to listen to the women.

“We are here at your behest. And as before we are doing a job that you seem incapable of.” Cullen sneered as he looked up at the two ambassadors. “Without the Inquisition you would not have the luxury of arguing at all!”

“Perhaps we should adjourn for the day until Inquisitor Trevelyan returns.” Josephine said as she shot a hard glance towards Cullen.

Arl Teagan was staring at Cullen with open disgust. But he remained mute as he was ushered from the room by Josephine. The woman was suggesting that they get some rest for the morning when the Council would reconvene.

Leliana’s hard blue eyes bore into the ex-Templar as the three ambassadors exited the small gathering room. He shifted uncomfortably and rearranged a few papers on the nearby table top. He knew what she wanted to ask. She wanted to ask him what was wrong. She was worried for him, undoubtedly.

“Cullen-” She began, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“I am tired. It has been a trying day.” He snapped. Stepping away from the table he headed towards the exit of the room as well. “I will be in my room if you need me. It would be best if I had... time alone.” He muttered over his shoulder towards her.

For the woman’s credit she didn’t say anything else. Only watched him leave, her face still pensive with worry.

He walked through the ornate gilded halls trying to bring his racing thoughts to a halt. Everything was spiraling out of control. And Cullen couldn’t stop it. It was infuriating. But the more it stoked his anger, the more he lashed out. And the more he lashed out the faster it all spun out of control.

Cullen paused at an open balcony that looked over a small courtyard. The scent of night jasmine and lavender wafted up from a nearby garden as the sun slowly fell behind the towering walls of the palace. An owl sounded out a mournful hooting call into the darkening eve. But nothing was able to bring Cullen out of his melancholy thoughts.

The Inquisition was being torn apart. Like ravenous wild dogs the two countries were already discussing the best way to split the spoils of the upstart organization. They hadn’t even waited until they’d finished drawing breath before tearing into the belly. It was a terrifying situation to be in the midst of. Even if Inquisitor Trevelyan swore that she would never cede to the two nations, Cullen could smell the blood in the air.

And Dorian...

Cullen’s heart constricted painfully and his breath stuttered.

He was leaving. To a place where Cullen could not follow. Would not. What would an ex-Templar do in Tevinter? An ex-Templar that wasn’t taking lyrium any longer. How could Cullen stand by and watch as the mage threw himself into danger every day? How could he stand by and watch the atrocities the Magister’s committed? It would drive Cullen mad.

No matter how much he cared for Dorian.

“You feel afraid. It’s not that you can’t go, it’s that you’re afraid to.”

Cullen snapped out of his reverie with a soft exclaim of surprise. Cole stood next to him. “Cole! I-I didn’t know you were here!”

“I hadn’t planned on letting you see me. I came to help the Inquisitor. And Maryden.” The young man turned and looked out over the balcony railing. “But your pain is so loud. Spiraling out of control, spinning away into the dark. Like the champagne glasses you threw into the night all those years ago. But Dorian isn’t laughing this time.”

Cullen’s throat constricted. “What do you want, Cole?”

“Only to help. I can help you forget her. If that would help you tell him what he needs to hear.” The young man turned his curious blue eyes onto Cullen.

“Don’t.” Panic thrummed in his chest and Cullen took a hurried step away from the boy. “Don’t touch her.”

“Her laughter brightens the cold rooms of the Tower, warm and pleasant. This place feels almost like a home when she holds you close. Her kiss is as soft as a spring morning, like dew on a rose petal. He reminds you of her.”

“Stop.” Cullen felt himself deflating as the spirit opened up his memories and read them aloud. He slumped against the railing of the balcony, staring out over the night darkened courtyard.

The young man watched him carefully. “She would have liked him.” He finally said after a few minutes of silence.

Cullen nodded in agreement. Yes, Lorynne would have truly enjoyed Dorian. They would have probably been best friends, honestly. But he had not been able to save her. He hadn’t been strong enough. He was never enough. And it terrified him to think that he would be unable to save Dorian.

“She would want you to be happy. She loved you very much.” Cole said, his voice laced with sympathy.

“And I, her.” Cullen’s voice was strained with unbidden emotion.

The spirit nodded. They stood in quiet contemplation of the gardens below for a time. It was the longest Cullen had ever spent with the young man. He had never felt comfortable around him, had even argued for his removal from the Inquisition. But as he waded through the old, scarred memories he found the spirit’s presence comforting.

“The music isn’t as loud when he’s away.” Cole murmured thoughtfully.

Cullen looked quickly at the young man, eyes wide with shock. “What did you say?”

“The music. Your music. When Dorian is far away it isn’t as noticeable.”

“You can... You can hear it?”

“Yes. Sometimes. When I’m near one of you.” Cole looked up from below into shock wide honey-brown eyes.

“Then... Do you know what it is?” Cullen’s heart trembled. Answers to questions they’d been asking for so long.

“It’s you. And him. You’re singing to each other.”

Cullen’s eyebrows drew down. “I don’t understand. What is it? What causes it?”

Cole shrugged lightly. “It’s just... you. I can see it inside of you both. It’s almost like the Fade. But it’s not. When you and Dorian are near each other it’s very bright, and loud.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Cullen grumbled. Of course the spirit wouldn’t have answers. The boy was always speaking in riddles. He looked away and back to the starry night sky. “Does anyone else have the music?”

“No. Well, demons do. But it’s not the same. They sound angry. Ugly. Your’s is beautiful.”

“Are we possessed? Like... You?” Cullen asked with trepidation.

“No.”

Well, that was good at least. “Dorian suggested it might be a _piece_ of the Fade, inside of us. From blood magic.”

“Maybe.” Cole nodded and turned away.

Cullen stared at the boy’s profile in contemplation. Another low, almost mournful hoot echoed through the courtyard below. When the boy didn’t say anything further, Cullen returned to his melancholy thoughts.

He didn’t know what would happen over the next couple of days. But he did know they would be the hardest days he’d ever had to live. Always he’d had a path. He’d known what and where he was going and set himself to the task of getting there. But he’d left the Templars. And now, if the Inquisition truly was torn apart, he would be left adrift with nothing to set anchor to.

“Your sister would love to have you visit her.” Cole muttered.

“Stop listening to my thoughts.” Cullen snapped, glancing at the stoic boy from the corner of his eye.

“You always think so loud. It’s hard to not hear.” The spirit whined back. There was a brief pause and Cole’s head tilted to the side like a dog listening to a far call on the wind. “They’ve returned.” He whispered and Cullen blinked as the young man simply... Vanished.

He turned away from the now empty balcony and looked out once more. A soft, floral breeze brushed warmly against his skin and Cullen closed his eyes as he took it in. If he concentrated he could bring the scent of rose water perfume to memory. The feel of a soft hand in his own. Lilting laughter, the sound of the Grand Ball orchestra playing gaily in the background.

“Commander. The Inquisitor has returned.” A soldier was standing at attention behind him as Cullen looked over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there will be one or two last chapters, then la fin.


	18. Sharp are Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes letting go is the hardest, yet most rewarding part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the Inquisitor's speech is directly from the game.

Cullen marched back down to the meeting room. The others were already there, speaking about the things they had found on the other side of the eluvians. About the floating ancient elven city, the strange and cryptic messages from Qunari about a secret elven operative.

Iron Bull was adamant he had no connections at all back in Par Vollen and was as in the dark as the rest of them.

“They were expecting us to be working with Fen’Harel.” Trevelyan said. She was holding her marked hand against her side, wincing every now and then. “Do we know who Fen’Harel is?”

“The ancient elven trickster god, isn’t he?” Cullen supplied uselessly.

“Helpful.” Dorian snorted derisively from the corner he lingered in near the back of the room. Shockwaves of humiliation shot through Cullen’s belly and he looked down at the paper strewn table top. It had been a long time since he’d been on the receiving end of the mage’s contemptuous mockery.

“Yes. But they seem to think he is a real being. Someone who is working with the Inquisition that the Ben Hassrath have deemed dangerous.” Iron Bull said after shooting a wary glance towards the Magister.

“Whoever he is we need to-” Leliana was cut short when the Inquisitor shouted in alarm, her hand glowing bright enough to cast the entire room in a garish green light. The small red haired woman fell to her knees, clutching her hand close to her chest as it crackled with energy.

“Kadan!”

“Inquisitor!” Cullen stood wide eyed as he watched the companions in the room rush to the woman’s side.

They waited quietly for a moment while she gathered herself together and stood back up. “We need to find who he is. And now.” She panted heavily.

“Evelyn...” Dorian whispered softly, using the woman’s rarely heard first name. His hand touched her shoulder gently.

“It’s getting worse. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to stop it.” She said, shaking her head as Iron Bull stepped close and touched her other shoulder.

“Would you like for me to... inform the Exalted Council of the danger?” Josephine asked, her voice and face reflecting her worry.

Trevelyan looked away, quiet as she pondered the implications. “No. Unless we know for a fact that the Qunari mean to attack the palace soon, we should keep this quiet.” Her voice was hard as she made the decision.

“There will be questions.” Leliana said apprehensively.

“Then let them ask. But for now we shall remain silent.” Sweat began to bead and drip along the woman’s forehead. The Inquisitor wiped at it irritably with the back of her unmarked hand.

“I’ll have guards posted at the eluvian in case Qunari attempt to attack the palace.” Cullen stated. He couldn’t help the worried crease in his brow as he observed the woman.

“We need to get to them.” She glanced at Dorian, Iron Bull, and Black Wall. “We have to stop whatever they planned. Before...” She looked down at her hand as it crackled again. “Before they can attack.”

“Kadan...” Bull hissed. Worry crumpled the large warrior’s features.

“I don’t know how much time we have, Bull. Let’s get going.” She stated, ignoring his concern.

The four companions walked out of the room, heading back to the eluvian. Cullen’s heart thumped in his chest when Dorian looked at him before exiting the door, his eyes tight around the edges with unvoiced emotions.

Cullen licked his lips about to say something to the mage, anything. To apologize, or beg, plead for the other to return safely. But the Tevinter hurried out before he could form the words. Leliana and Josephine were already speaking together about how to handle the Council in case the four did not return.

Cullen excused himself and left shortly after the companions, heading to collect a few of the soldiers to guard the eluvian. He set them up about the interior of the room and the exterior with explicit instructions that no one was to enter or leave. Excepting, of course, himself or the Inquisitor. He ended up stationing himself just nearby the eluvian, standing near a young recruit that eyed him with awe.

Hours passed. And nothing came in or out of the eluvian. Every time a ripple would flicker across the surface of the mirror Cullen would feel his stomach lurch, his hand wrapping tight around the hilt of his sword. He was ready for anything that might come out of the magical device. But nothing would leave the eluvian or move behind that shifting glass facade.

“Do you think they’re coming back?” The young man asked.

Cullen was pacing nervously back and forth. His heart raced at the question. “Maker guide them.” He whispered, rubbing at his face in a nervous gesture. “I pray they safely return.” He finally said. There wasn’t anything else he could say to the young soldier. Nothing he could say or do that would make the waiting any better, or take the sting out of the possibility that the group would _not_ be returning.

More time passed like a swiftly moving river. Cullen found himself a chair and sat hunched over his knees, holding his head in his hands as his lips moved in a silent prayer. Josephine had stopped by to give food and tea to the soldiers waiting for any sign of movement in the mirror. Cullen had drank his tea and set the plate of food to the side. No one else had been interested in eating either, and after awhile of silent brooding she had collected the untouched plates and left.

Leliana also made an appearance. Her delicate features were pinched in worry as she touched his shoulder placatingly. “You should get some rest. It’s almost morning.”

“No. You’re the one who must face the Council. I will be fine. Go get some sleep, I will send for you when they return.” He said, standing from his chair. _If they return._ The treacherous thought niggled in the back of his mind.

She knew not to push the issue further, had seen him lose his temper far too many times over the past day. The Spy Master merely nodded and turned away, leaving the small room. As the door swung open Cullen spied the faint kiss of pink along the horizon, promise of a new day.

There was a sudden shout from the young soldier near the eluvian and Cullen turned deftly, his sword pulling from it’s sheath easily. But his eyes were met with the Inquisitor’s haggard features, sticky blood dappling the woman’s armor and face.

“Inquisitor!” He shouted, slipping the metal weapon back into the leather scabbard. Cullen stepped forward, his hands clasping around the small woman’s shoulders and holding her up when she stumbled forward.

Iron Bull came next, his large body pushing through the eluvian’s thin framework awkwardly. Dorian and Blackwall tumbled out behind the Qunari. All were caked in gore and wounded. Blackwall had a large gashing cut on his jaw, blood seeping down his neck. Iron Bull’s arm hung uselessly at his side, his shoulder dislocated.

“What happened? Go get Leliana! She can’t have gone far!” Cullen shouted at the gaping soldier. The young man nodded and was gone in a hurry to find the auburn haired woman.

“Dragon. And a lot of Qunari.” Dorian huffed. His armor was singed and blood caked his temple and forehead. The man’s eyes were unfocused, distant as he slumped against a far wall.

“Solas was... He is...” Trevelyan drifted off and looked down at her hand. The green mar was dimmer than it had been when she’d left the night before.

Leliana came pushing into the small room with a healer in tow. The mage was quick to set about the worst of the wounds as the Spy Master approached the Inquisitor.

“Tell me. Did you stop it?” She asked of the dazed group.

“Yes.” Trevelyan hissed. “For now.”

Cullen stepped back, his eyes drawn once more to Dorian. The Tevinter was leaned against the wall and staring at the corner of the room with a worryingly glazed eye. The healer finished with Blackwall’s face and turned towards the tan skinned man. Cullen’s jaw flexed as he watched the healer tilt Dorian’s head one way and the other, asking in hushed tones if anything hurt, where he was injured.

“Solas...” Trevelyan whispered, pulling Cullen’s eyes back to her. “He’s Fen’Harel. I don’t know what he plans but... We must stop him.” Her voice became firm, resolute. Her hand mark crackled with the woman’s anger.

“What about the mark?” He asked.

“He did something to it. But I don’t know how long it’ll last. Maybe hours. Maybe days.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” The green mark glimmered brightly for a moment before dulling down once more.

“Maybe a Templar could... _I_ could take lyrium, use my abilities to perhaps cut it off from the Fade entirely.” Cullen suggested. The entire room fell silent at the implications.

“Lyrium?” Leliana asked in a hushed tone. “There are Templars here, you do not need to take lyrium.”

“This is not something those outside the Inquisition need to know about. We can keep it quiet.” Brown eyes looked up into dark stormy grey. The Inquisitor was staring hard at him, her mouth a thin line of disapproval. Cullen swallowed anxiously. “I have always been the most competent. I have attended many Harrowings, know the necessary rites of tranquility.”

“No.”

“If it would save you, Inquisitor! We must try!” Cullen pleaded. “My life is but a trifle! You have saved us all, allow me to save you!”

“No!” She shouted, her face flushing with anger. “You will not throw away what you’ve worked for! There are other ways. Cut it off...” She murmured thoughtfully.

Cullen’s nostrils flared and his teeth ground together in fury. He could feel Dorian’s eyes on his face. Could sense the man’s wondering disapproval. But Cullen couldn’t look at him, couldn’t meet the mage’s gaze. Trevelyan was muttering to herself as behind her Iron Bull was getting his shoulder reset.

“In the meantime, what should we do with the eluvian?” The ex-Templar finally asked.

“Destroy it.” Trevelyan answered quickly. “No good seems to come of these.” The healer had finished with Bull and was now looking over the small roguish woman. She leaned forward and whispered to the mage, drawing a soft gasp of surprise from her. “Is it possible?”

“Of course, messere.” The woman answered softly.

“Good.” Trevelyan stepped towards the door. “Then let’s not delay.”

Cullen’s eyebrows pinched together as he watched the Inquisitor leave the room hurriedly, the healer following in her shadow. Leliana was quick on their heels. The blonde turned his attention back to the remaining companions in the room with him.

Iron Bull made a gruff sound before leaving after his kadan, muttering about ‘not liking the sound of that’. Blackwall was wiping at the blood that was drying along his neck.

“Think I’ll go take a bath. It’s been a bath kind of day.” He stated, giving one glance over at Cullen. “And, um... Just so we’re clear. I respect you a lot Commander. Even if you do make shoddy choices from time to time.” Cullen couldn’t help the lop sided smile he gave the other warrior.

When the bearded man slipped through the doorway, Cullen’s heart leapt in his throat as he slowly turned and made eye contact with Dorian. Blood still caked the man’s black hair, dried flakes of rusty red crusting along his hairline. But he was clear eyed as he looked back at Cullen. It wasn’t a look of kindness, or the soft doe eyed look of adoration. It was hard. Sharp.

Angry disappointment.

Cullen felt his breath hitch in his throat and he tilted his chin up in an attempt to appear in control. But he felt his world crumbling around him as the silence reigned between the two. Grey eyes narrowed and Dorian’s lips curled back in a sneer.

“Commander.” He quipped shortly before pushing past Cullen.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” Cullen said over his shoulder as the mage pulled open the door. He didn’t dare look at the other man. He didn’t want to see the disappointment or rage in the other’s face.

Dorian didn’t say anything in return. He only stood in silence for a moment before leaving the room and Cullen in it alone.

He was wandering through the gardens, thinking of the grim news the group had returned with. Fen’Harel returned. The Inquisitor had seemed sure that the elven mage did not bring good tidings. And if he had been able to control the mark, could he not also control the Rift? Worrisome was an understatement.

“Commander Rutherford. They are asking you to attend the hearings.” A servant approached. She bowed low as he turned towards her. Glancing up at the rising sun, he was surprised to see it was nearing midmorning. He’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts he hadn’t noticed the day slipping by.

“Very well.” He nodded and turned, shuffling tiredly towards the grand foyer entrance. It was quiet inside the council chambers as he stepped inside. He walked over to his chair behind Josephine, the Antivan woman turning in her seat to watch as he sat down gingerly.

“You look tired.” She whispered.

“I am tired.” He answered back. He knew that there were dark circles under his eyes. His jacket was most likely wrinkled and his hair a mess. But he hadn’t slept in over a day. And the stressors of the past hours were weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“We were told the Inquisitor had returned. Is she still unwilling to face us herself? To tell this grand assembly just what it is that is so important she cannot be in attendance?” Arl Teagan asked once the room had settled.

“Our most holy Inquisitor is currently occupied with another matter, but she will be in attendance soon.” Josephine responded. “I am here, however, to answer in her stead. All questions and concerns shall be addressed accordingly.”

“This is most inappropriate! I demand-” But the Arl was cut off abruptly as the door to the chamber slammed open and the Inquisitor marched in.

“What you demand is of no consequence!” She barked as she came to a stop just before the raised bench of judges. The left sleeve of her jacket was stapled closed, the marked hand _gone_.

Divine Victoria watched the woman wide eyed from her seat between the two nation’s ambassadors. A hushed murmur rushed through the gathered crowd and Cullen sat up straighter in his chair. Josephine quickly stood up and walked to the Inquisitor’s side. She whispered something to the woman, but was quickly brushed aside.

“You all know what this is.” Her remaining hand lifted a heavy tome marked with the seal of the Inquisition. “A writ from Divine Justinia authorizing the formation of the Inquisition! We pledged to close the breach, find those responsible, and restore order. With or without anyone’s approval!” The woman sneered, glowering at the Ferelden Ambassador. “It wasn’t a formally authorized treaty that saved Ferelden’s people!” She turned, holding the book up towards the gathered crowd. “It wasn’t careful diplomacy that ended your _inane_ civil war!” A shocked gasp echoed through the room. “It was never about the organization! It was about people doing what was necessary.” She turned her ire back to the raised dais. “Now! If you’ll excuse me, I have a world to save.” She dropped the heavy tome, the book falling to ground with a loud bang. “Again.” Turning Trevelyan started marching back to the exit of the room. “Effective immediately, the Inquisition is disbanded!”

A shout of surprise and loud voices erupted as the small woman took her leave. Iron Bull, who had been hovering near the door, followed along behind her. Dorian, Blackwall, Sera, and the rest, all followed in their wake to join the Inquisitor wherever she may lead them.

Cullen found himself standing, unknown when he had left his seat. His breath came in short gasping puffs. So it was done. It was over. Quickly he pushed past a couple of gathered nobles that were talking loudly amongst themselves and rushed out the door to follow the rest. His heart was pounding with adrenaline. She had just... Ended it. Everything they had worked so hard for. Everything they had fought and bled and _died_ for.

As he came out to the courtyards he didn’t spot anyone. A few soldiers and guards glanced at him as he rushed past. He could hear Sera giggling and followed the sound past the tavern to an overlook that peered out at the quaint village settled in the valley below. Everyone was gathered around the Inquisitor, touching her reverently, speaking with her in hushed tones. Cullen paused where he was and watched them. All of them. The best and brightest of Thedas, converged around one singular head-strong woman.

Leliana came to stand next to him, watching the scene as well.

“It’s done then.” She said with a small smile.

“Apparently so. The question is: what now?” He asked.

“Now we take a moment and gather ourselves for what is to come.” Leliana said quietly before stepping forward to join the small gathering of companions around the Inquisitor.

He waited. Watching as the others all finished speaking with the woman. Some wandered off, heading to the tavern to have a drink, others going to start packing their items to leave the palace and go their own way. He stepped forward when only Trevelyan, Iron Bull, Dorian, and Leliana remained.

“Inquisitor.” He said, bowing low towards the woman when she turned at the sound of his footsteps.

“Cullen.” Her grey eyes were sad, her lips set in a firm, determined line. “Thank you. For everything.”

“My lady.” He took her remaining hand and pressed a soft kiss the back of it. “For you, I would do it all again.”

She smiled, just slightly, and nodded at him. “And for that I am eternally grateful.”

He stepped forward, coming to stand just beside her and Leliana.

“It’s not over, you know.” Trevelyan murmured.

Cullen’s eyes dropped to look at his feet. “If you ever have need of me, I am but a raven away.”

“I believe the same can be said of us all.” Leliana said, her hand lifting resting on the Inquisitor’s slender shoulder.

“Yes. Well... I am exhausted. And think I shall retire. Tomorrow, we’ll have to go back to SkyHold. There’s much to do, yet. People need to be told.” The Inquisitor looked tired. Older than her years in that moment. “If you see Josephine, send her to my chambers. I’m sure she’ll have an earful for me.”

Leliana tilted her head towards the woman, and Cullen saluted her, bowing as she stepped away. Iron Bull followed after the Inquisitor, his hand resting on the woman’s shoulder in a protective manner as they crossed the courtyards back to the living quarters.

“I will also be getting some sleep.” Leliana looked at Cullen thoughtfully as she said this. “I suggest you do as well. We will probably be leaving early.”

He nodded towards her, watching as the woman stepped away. He turned away slowly, back to valley. There was a slight movement in his periphery and Cullen’s heart slammed in his ribs as he turned, expecting to see Dorian standing near him. He was ready with an apology, tender words. Anything the man asked for, wanted, needed.

But the space was empty. Only a tree branch waving in a breeze.

Regret and sorrow squeezed their way into his chest. He’d fought with Dorian before. Over various topics, differences in opinions. Occasionally the mage had even deemed Cullen unfit to speak with for hours at a time after a heated debated.

But he’d never been so angry as to entirely ignore Cullen. He’d never just... Disappeared. And the fact that this could very well be the last time Cullen ever saw the mage made him despair.

The blonde turned away from the overlook and glanced around, seeing if he could eye the dark skinned mage. There were people converging at the tavern. And Cullen knew it was possible the man had slipped into the crowd. Slowly making his way closer, he scanned the few visible heads of people. None were familiar.

He was tired. Anxious about what was to come. Heartbroken over his apparent failure and ability to vanguard their movement. And at love. He stepped away from the gathering, shaking his head. Cullen couldn’t fathom walking into the throng of people. Not just then.

The palace grounds were warmed by the summer sun as he languidly walked back to his sleeping chambers. His eyes kept sweeping around, looking for any signs of the Magister. But there were none. Not even a brief glance of dark hair or copper skin.

His bed chamber was cool as he opened the door. Thankfully a north-east facing room, by the time midday hit the room quickly dispersed any heat that had gathered in the morning. Since returning to the Winter Palace, Cullen truly hadn’t spent much time in the ornately decorated room. Except the times he had been with Dorian. The bed was made by a servant that had passed through earlier that day. Leaving no trace of the mage that had lain wrapped in the sheet just the morning previous.

A deep, heavy, shaking sigh escaped as Cullen removed his overcoat before slumping into the bed. He curled around a pillow that still held the lingering scent of sandalwood. Sleep was slow to claim his lethargic thoughts. Even though his eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, it was hard to stop his racing thoughts.

Eventually though, he was able to drift off into a fretful nap.

The call of a night bird woke him with a sharp trill. The full moon sent it’s silvery gaze through the window, illuminating the room with it’s eerie pale light. His stomach was pinched, tight and painful. Reminding him he had not eaten since the morning previous.

Slowly, Cullen untangled himself from the bed sheets and he removed the rumpled clothing he’d slept in to put on a fresh uniform. As he tied the blue sash around his chest, his heart thumped staccato when he remembered the Inquisitor’s harsh words ending the council earlier.

Leaving his bed chamber, Cullen made his way through the living quarters and out towards the nearby dining room. There wasn’t much left over from the dinner feast that he had apparently missed earlier, but he was able to at least satisfy his aching belly with a few scattered pieces of fruit and vegetables.

The night was warm and bright under the moonlight as the ex-Templar walked along the gravel pathways. People were wandering the grounds in differing states of celebratory drunken stupor. There were shadowy figures of a couple kissing behind the tavern and Cullen quickly stepped away, his neck growing hot with embarrassment.

The tavern itself was still packed full of people. The Charger’s were singing loudly with the bard. Krem sat just near the singer watching her with an adoring look. He thought he spied Cole lingering behind Maryden but with a blink the possible form of the young man dispersed into a gaggle of giggling young women.

He wasn’t feeling in a festive mood. So when Krem spotted him and waved for Cullen to come over, he only shook his head slowly and stepped back from the light that spilled out the doorway. The other man only nodded back knowingly, turning his gaze once more to the singing bard.

The blonde turned away from the tavern and headed back towards the overlook that the companions had been gathered on earlier that day. He nodded politely to a passing couple, stepping out of the way briefly to allow them to walk by. His eyes lingered on the way the woman’s hand rested in the crook of the man’s arm. Safe, assured, loved.

Blinking widely, honey-brown eyes looked up at the large moon hanging heavy in the sky above. The stars were faded behind it’s great white gaze, but they twinkled all the same. The same sky he had stood under with Dorian as the man had wept after meeting his father so long ago. The same sky they had lingered beneath and spoke of the music they heard. The same sky that had watched through the window of his tower when Dorian had kissed him.

The same sky that had been rent asunder and brought them all together.

Cullen took a deep breath and turned his eyes towards the overlook. There, standing near the balustrade and gazing out over the rolling valleys below, was a silvery form. A familiar outline. Slowly, cautiously as if the very sound of his footsteps would cause the mage to flee, Cullen approached. Dorian’s head turned at the soft scuffing advance of Cullen’s boots.

“Dorian.” Cullen called, his voice a soft whisper. His body quaked with anticipation.

“Commander.” Dorian answered curtly, his profile turning back to contemplate the quiet village far below. The mage’s back was stiff as he wrapped his arms around himself. Like he was trying to protect himself.

Cullen licked his lips nervously as he continued his slow crawling steps forward. His hand lifted from his side to reach out, to touch the other’s shoulder.

“Stop.” Dorian spat out angrily.

“I-” Cullen faultered, his hand falling helplessly. “Dorian, I-”

“This would be so much easier if you just-” One of Dorian’s long fingered hands waved in the air near his head. “Walked away.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?” Cullen asked. His heart was fluttering madly like a trapped bird.

“Because it’ll be better this way.” There was a hint of anguish lingering in the mage’s tone.

“I don’t understand. I’m sorry for losing my temper the other day. But why-”

“Because this was never going to work. You are the Maker’s light incarnate, a _righteous Templar_. And I am an evil Magister. We were never meant to be. I was always going to leave and you were never going to follow.” There was now an angry bite in the other’s tone. “You were never going to...” The last words faded sadly.

“Dorian-”

“It’s easier this way. Trust me.” Dorian turned and started walking away, back towards the palace.

“Wait, Dorian, please!” Cullen cried. Something in his voice stopped the Tevinter in his tracks, his head turning just slightly. “I-” A long shaky breath, “I-”

_love you_.

The words sat heavy on his tongue, pressing against the back of his teeth. His chest felt full to bursting with the effort of trying to _say_ what he needed to say. What he wanted to say. “Oh, Maker!” Cullen bent forward, his hands on his knees as he took a deep shuddering breath.

_Dark brown eyes gazed up into his own as a delicate hand pointed towards the top of the bookcase._

_‘Would you get that one for me? Just there.’_

_Cullen reached up and pulled down the thick volume she asked for. His eyes locked with her own as he handed it over. She giggled, her cheeks flushing a soft pink._

_‘Thank you. You’re very handsome for a Templar. My name is Lorynne.’_

“I am a broken man, Dorian.” He hissed between his teeth. His breath caught in his throat as he looked up through his lashes at the other man’s boots. The mage remained silent, waiting. “But I... I-”

_Her lips were soft and dry as she placed a chaste kiss against his own. The air of the Tower was cold, but her hand pressing against his chest seared his skin. There was no one around in this part of the Tower. Most occupants were gathered to watch the First Enchanter’s lecture._

_‘I think I love you.’ She whispered breathlessly._

_As she placed another soft, tender kiss to his mouth, Cullen knew he would never feel for another the way he cared for her._

_He would die for her._

Tears were clinging desperately to his lashes and Cullen straightened up quickly, moving to occupy the spot near the edge Dorian had vacated. His hands grasped the stone railing tightly in an attempt to center himself back to this reality. “Dorian. Please, I-”

The words had form in his throat. But his jaw flexed closed with a stutter of his heart, shutting his teeth like a trap around them. They tumbled over his tongue, desperate to be set free.

_His boot steps rang loudly through the hallways as he rushed from room to room. She had to be here somewhere. If he could find her, bring her to Senior Enchanter Wynne and the others. They would be safe. He could protect her._

_The Abomination stuck hard and fast from behind. Cullen cried out as searing pain shot through from his shoulder, causing him to stumble to his knees. His hand was quick to draw his sword and he barely was able to turn and deflect another hard blow from the creature with his shield._

_Lyrium flamed blue-hot in his veins as he struck out with a Holy Smite. The beast stumbled backwards, giving him just enough room to stand and strike with his sword. The metal hacked against the grotesque creature’s chest and belly again and again until it fell with a gurgling snarl._

_His shield fell with a clang to the floor, his damaged arm no longer able to support it’s weight._

_He had to find her._

Dorian continued to hover silently a short distance away, watching as Cullen wrestled with painful memories of a life lost long ago. “I can’t lose you, too. I-”

_Her eyes sparkled as she pushed away from his kiss, the small white wildflower tucked behind her ear._

_‘My devoted knight! My handsome Templar!’ She laughed brightly as she twirled away, robes swirling around her small frame as she danced down the hall._

_He took a deep breath-_

the night air was  
 _the Tower air was_

warm and fragrant  
 _cold and stale_

“I love you! Don’t-Don’t go!” He blurted out. Heart pounding painfully he stood trembling like a new born fawn as a gentle breeze carried away the memory of her laughter.

The only sound was the heavy, shaking rasp of his breath. Emotions he thought lost to him were unraveling, spooling out in his chest. His heart felt muffled where it pounded against his ribs. The tears that had gathered on his lashes fell cool down his cheeks as he shut his eyes, face lifted towards the full moon above.

A warm hand came to rest lightly against his forearm. “Say it again.” A voice as smooth as velvet tremored through the still.

Cullen’s eyes blinked open and he turned his head to look at Dorian standing next to him, grey eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “Don’t go.” He whispered.

“No. No... The other...”

Cullen swallowed thickly. “I love you.”

Grey eyes slid shut and Dorian’s face relaxed as if he were bathing in the warmth of the words. “Again.”

“I love you.”

A small, quivering smile stretched across the other man’s face. It was the most genuine smile Cullen had ever seen grace the Tevinter’s lips. And he had been the source. His chest swelled with unleashed joy, the sound of the music vibrating through his very core. Grey eyes opened and locked with his own.

“It’s you, you know.” He said after he was able to untie his tongue. “You’re my music.”

Dorian’s eyebrows twitched slightly, a small wrinkle appearing between them. “I like that thought.” He murmured.

“Please don’t go. Stay with me.” It was selfish and childish of him. And the one thing that he truly desired above all else.

The mage took his hand from where it rested on Cullen’s forearm and he placed it on the stone balustrade. “You know I can’t. Please, Cullen, understand. I have to do this.”

All the joy and hope that had filled him began to dissipate, leaving Cullen feeling deflated and weak. He slumped against the stone railing and looked down at the small valley, the lights of the village flickering in the distance. “What will I do?” He asked the moon.

Dorian was thoughtfully quiet as they both stood contemplating the question. “There are many things you could pursue.”

Alone.

Cullen looked away.

“I will always be there for you, amatus. You are always welcome to join me. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.”

He took a large breath in and held it. A possibility in a sea of endless opportunities. A soft hand wrapped around his fingers, squeezing gently.

“Dance with me.” Dorian said, lifting their hands from the balustrade to press a soft kiss to the back of Cullen’s knuckles.

Slowly Cullen turned and looked at Dorian. The man shone in the silvery light of the pearl moon. Stepping towards him he pulled the other close, his cheek pressing against Dorian’s own and they slowly spun to the tune of a song only they could hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small epilogue to follow. But... This is the end.
> 
> Thank you for all who read, who commented, and who enjoyed this piece of work.
> 
> Now I suppose it's time to go through and edit it! How very unprofessional of me. ;)


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition may have disbanded, but it is not the end of life. Cullen get's a surprise and teases his beloved for what is to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was how it was going to end all along. I just like making you nervous.
> 
> Also, I dedicate this sappy epilogue to Clairmonde. For your kind comments.

Cullen frowned as he mulled over the various contracts of employment in front of him. He would have to send a few letters of regret to some noble families that had been adamant about letting their ‘little starlings see the world with the Inquisition’ via becoming a soldier in the Inquisitor’s armies. Josephine knew how to handle the angry replies if they didn’t accept the annulment of their contracts.

And Cullen was quite frankly glad to have the Ambassador on his side for just such occasions.

There was a sharp rapping knock on his door and he glanced up, eyebrows high on his head. “Enter.” He called out. It wasn’t often he was sought after anymore. Most of the army had been disbanded by this time, Leliana and Josephine were currently in Orlais, and other than Iron Bull none of the companions remained at the stronghold.

“Commander.” Trevelyan said as she slipped through the door, shutting it behind her tightly to ward off the cold winter winds outside. “I have a... surprise for you.” She stepped forward lightly and held forward her hand. In her palm was a large dark orb. It’s surface shimmered in the candlelight.

Bear, the mabari, stood from where he had been slumbering by the desk to approach the woman, hopeful for treats.

“Um. Is that... to do with Fen’harel?” He asked, eyeing the orb cautiously.

“Just take it.” The woman said disapprovingly. “I’ll want it back when you’re finished though!” She set the heavy orb into his hand as he reached out tentatively for it. “And dinner will be served in an hour.” The woman said curtly as she stepped back to the door and out into the whistling winds beyond.

Cullen pursed his lips as he looked down at the dark orb. It was surprisingly warm to the touch. “Hm.” He was about to set it aside when a familiar voice drifted from the dark surface.

“Amatus.”

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen shouted, dropping the orb quickly. It fell with a loud thump to his desk top and began to roll towards the edge. He gasped in shock and reached out, snagging the orb just before it fell off. If it had fallen and shattered on the stone floor Cullen was pretty sure there was nowhere in Thedas he would’ve been safe from Trevelyan’s wrath.

“Did you just drop me?” Dorian’s voice asked bemused.

“What is this witchcraft?” Cullen asked softly, turning the orb around in his hands, trying to _see_ how it worked.

Bright, familiar laughter rang through the room from the dark shining surface of the trinket and Cullen felt his heart stutter in his chest with sudden painful longing.

“Dorian?” He asked breathlessly as he sat back onto his chair.

“Yes, my love?” The voice answered back.

“Wh-where are you?” There was a faint tremor in Cullen’s voice.

“Currently? In bed.” The other man said teasingly. “Would you like to know what I’m wearing?”

A blush crawled it’s way across his cheeks and Cullen snorted. “What is this thing?”

“It’s a sending crystal. Amazing the wonders having attachments to the Inquisition could get you, no? I was worried our beautiful Inquisitor would miss the sound of my voice, and so gifted it to her at the Exalted Council.”

“Where did you get it from?” Cullen asked, mildly hurt the man hadn’t gotten one for him.

“Eh. It was difficult to locate. Even with the vast resources of the Inquisition...” Dorian paused thoughtfully, and in his mind’s eye Cullen could see the man chewing on his lower lip. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to find a pair for us.”

Cullen leaned back in his chair as he studied the near midnight black orb in his hand. Various colors danced just under the surface like a rainbow effect on an oil slick.

“I miss you terribly, amatus.” Dorian’s voice whispered huskily.

“Me, too.” Cullen muttered back.

“I received your letter the other day. The poetry was a nice touch.” There was a tinge of teasing amusement in the man’s voice.

Cullen snorted and shook his head. “It was hard to find a good rhyme for silk. My head kept thinking ‘milk’.”

Dorian laughed brightly again and Cullen’s lips pulled into a grin. “My favorite part was when you mentioned, perhaps, traveling?” The man said after catching his breath.

“Mm. Yes. I have to visit my sister first, of course.”

“Of course. Send Mia and the children my warmest regards.”

“Always. But afterward, I was thinking perhaps Nevarra. I’ve never been and Cassandra promised to give me a tour.”

“I’ve heard Nevarra is nice...” There was a drawn out question in the man’s tone.

“Then, Rivain. They say the isles are quite splendid during the New Year.” Cullen reached over and patted his mabari’s large head as the dog settled it’s snout on his armrest.

“Ah. Yes, best to keep a tight hold on your coin purse. Lot’s of sticky fingers.”

“Hm. I also will probably stop by in Starkhaven. See an old friend. Maybe I’ll swing by Kirkwall. Varric had mentioned he might have a job for me.” Cullen knew he was teasing the other man, leaving out just the city Dorian wanted to hear on his list of places to visit.

“Any... Anywhere else? Might pique your interest?” Dorian asked.

Cullen could see his image in the shimmering surface of the orb, his lips pulled back into a wide grin. “Oh. I don’t know, really. Perhaps Antiva.”

“Hm...” Dorian cleared his throat and there was a soft shuffling sound in the background. It fell silent for a long moment and Cullen’s grin started to fall when there was no answer to his teasing.

“Dorian? Did I break this thing?” Cullen sat straight in his chair and tilted the orb about in his hands, wondering again how it worked and how he could get it to connect back with the Magister.

“I’m here, amatus.” The other sounded thoughtful. “You know, there’s a lovely tea shop just down the street from my home. They have a delicious selection of pastries.”

Cullen smiled softly. “That sounds nice.” He said, his voice husky with emotion.

“And a museum of natural histories. You would find it very engaging, I’m sure.”

Cullen hummed happily, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled down at the orb.

“Perhaps a stroll through the public rose garden. At sunset, the first of every month, they send off fireworks near the steps of the Magesterium. You can see them from the gardens. It’s said if you kiss your beloved at the first firework you’ll have good luck for the rest of the month.”

Cullen’s smile trembled and he coughed lightly to try and clear the tightness in his throat. “It sounds beautiful.” His voice was pitched slightly, crackling with the strain of his emotions.

“Not as beautiful as you, amatus.” Dorian said, his voice smooth as silk.

Cullen felt his cheeks warm and he scoffed in embarrassment. “Always teasing me.” He gruffed. They both fell silent for another thoughtful moment. “Well... If I had a map, my horse might find it’s way.”

“My door is always open.” Dorian whispered. “As are my arms.”

“I miss you.”

“I love you, amatus.”

Cullen paused as he stared at the toe of his boot. His breath shuddered as he let the sound of the other man’s voice settle over him like a warm blanket “And I love you.”

Tevinter wasn't so far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And scene fade... That's a wrap!
> 
> P.S. I totally keep building more and more stories off this particular story line I've created for them. So... yeah, probably going to have more sappy stories (but more sexy times) in the future. I should really finish Ferelden Fluff...


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